


The Victor Will Never Be Asked If He Told The Truth

by OhHamilton



Series: The Benevolent Overlord [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Harry and Severus get together later on, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, References to Child Abuse, Ron Weasley Bashing, vague references to horcruxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-09-29 14:22:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20437490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhHamilton/pseuds/OhHamilton
Summary: During Harry's first Legillimency lesson in his fifth year, Snape sees something he didn't expect. Forced to face evidence of severe child abuse, Snape decides to do something about it, something that leads to massive consequences.This is the first instalment of a series where the light wins the war and the people of Britain lose.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work does not belong to me, all credit for the existing characters and writings go to JK Rowling etc. Sections of this chapter have been lifted from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

* * *

[“I am about to attempt to break into your mind,” said Snape softly. “We are going to see how well you resist. I have been told that you have already shown aptitude at resisting the Imperius Curse. You will find that similar powers are needed for this… Brace yourself, now. _Legilimens!_”

Snape struck before Harry was ready before he had even begun to summon any force of resistance. The office swam in front of his eyes and vanished; image after image was racing through his mind like a flickering film so vivid it blinded him to his surroundings.]

_The vision of Mr Weasley being bitten, the taste of blood in his mouth, the dreams, memories, flashes granted by Voldemort…_

_It was the summer previous; The Dementors swooping down, the sense of despair and loneliness…Vernon had come home drunk and raging, he felt the lash of the belt across his back…_

_Voldemort rising from the cauldron… Cedric Diggory lying on the ground by him, eyes blank and staring… The Second Task and the overwhelming fear of going near the water, the knowledge he couldn’t swim, that he would die in their black depths, the crushing cold… Facing the dragon, knowing he would die burning in agony…_

_The summer between his Third and Fourth years, Petunia had been angry that her plants had died in the heat so she had shoved his head into a barrel of water until he stopped struggling, yanking him out of the water and kicking him until he breathed again… Dudley beating him until he fell unconscious… Curled up in the corner of his bare room bleeding, hunger gnawing at his stomach…_

He could feel the presence in his mind pause before pressing in deeper. He didn’t have the strength to resist. Everything hurt, knowing that he had something to do with Mr Weasley's injuries, that Voldemort could access his mind at will, he was a liability. He should have run, should have disappeared into the muggle world, they were better off without him.

_The Dementors in Third year, swooping down, all happiness being sucked away… Facing a werewolf and the terror of imminent death… Falling from his broom at the match when the Dementors arrived…_

_The summer between Second and Third year, the beatings… Marge setting her dog on him… the hunger… The aching loneliness, huddled in the corner of his room… The fear of blowing Marge up and desperately escaping before he was killed by Vernon’s rage…_

_The fear in the Chamber, the knowledge of his pending death by basilisk and the sense of welcome that washed over him… Going into the forest to meet with the Acromantula… Hermione in the hospital wing, curly hair splayed over the pillow… The fear and isolation from the school hating him when he was only trying to stop the snake from attacking…_

_The summer between First and Second year, not having any contact with his friends, believing it was all a dream, Dobby appearing and telling him he couldn’t return… More beatings, fists and belts and rods, always underscored by the aching gnawing hunger… Struggling through chores only to fail and be beaten again…_

_The fear and pain from his confrontation with Quirrell, willing to sacrifice himself and his pathetic existence if it saved his new friends… Seeing Fluffy and the horror of being faced with a three-headed dog… The pain of his first week at Hogwarts when he ate too much because there was so much food and he couldn’t control himself, flashes of him throwing up after every meal…_

He knew what would be next and found something in himself to resist. The cupboard, he couldn’t go back there, couldn’t face the claustrophobia, the loneliness, the overwhelming sense of isolation, of being unworthy, hated, a freak, nothing more than a burden. He pushed, a glimpse of that tiny dark space enough to spur him on. Dredging up the last of his reserves he shoved Snape from his mind.

The cold stone of the floor was the first thing he registered as he slowly came back to himself. Eyes fluttered open and he realised he was lying sprawled out on the floor. He could see Snape’s boots and the underneath of his desk. His brain couldn’t help but notice the dust accumulated under it. He could hear harsh breathing filling the space. Everything hurt as he slowly pushed himself upright, not looking up. Instead, he turned and shuffled from the room.

* * *

Severus, for the first time in a long time, was at a loss. He wasn’t sure what he had expected of this lesson; well that was a lie, he knew exactly what he expected. He expected to find the vapid self-absorbed memories of a spoiled prince. He had been told, on numerous occasions, that the boy had been raised in the lap of luxury, wanting for nothing, being educated in the wizarding world and its ways prior to Hogwarts. He had been told that the boy had received training prior to his admittance to the school.

What he found was something entirely different. The boy had practically no defence around his mind, the broken shards of a shield brushed away with little pretence. All pureblood children, who were raised in the wizarding ways, had at least rudimentary shields in place around their minds to protect family secrets. Some of the memories he had expected but… His mind struggled to process the realities of what he had to face versus his preconceived notions.

He was so lost in thought he didn’t even realise he was alone, Potter’s bag still sitting next to the door. Whirling, he pressed his wand to his temple, withdrawing the memory of what he had just experienced and dropping it into the pensive. Putting all his thoughts and feelings away behind his Occlumency shields, he exhaled until he was empty of opinion or notion.

Plunging into the pensive, he observed Harry Potter, for the first time in his life without expectations and was stunned.

The boy was not his father. Was so far from his father it was difficult to believe he had ever thought that way, to begin with.

Connections finally began making themselves known in his mind. The boy had always been smaller than his year mates while his father had been one of the taller in their year. His father had made the perfect Chaser; broad, strong, exuberant, while the boy was small, lithe and quiet, appropriate placed as a Seeker. Lily had not been a petite woman either, strong and tall and full-figured.

He realised that it wasn’t arrogance that drove the boy, but a genuine lack of self-worth, the belief that he was nothing, so was always willing to risk himself for others. The self-sacrificing nobility did not stem from over-inflated self-worth. His lack of trust in authority was based on the fact no one had ever stepped in to help him. Potter had been abandoned by adults at every turn. He couldn’t imagine how he had missed the relationship the boy had with food, the way he related to people, clinging to those who accepted him even when they cast him aside.

He wondered what it was that had caused the boy to finally push him from his mindscape. There had been so much revealed that was tragic, what could be worse? What memory haunted the boy so much that he couldn’t revisit it. There was that final flash, a glimpse of darkness, aching loneliness, hunger, pain, a sense of being enclosed in a small space.

Shaking off his irrelevant curiosity, he considered his options. It was highly unlikely that Dumbledore was unaware of the situation. Dumbledore had placed the boy with his family; Severus remembered Petunia and her attitude about magic, anyone who knew Lily knew about her sister.

The Headmaster had to have been aware on some level that abuse was occurring and had ignored it. Why? What purpose did it serve to have a broken hero front their campaign? Perhaps the goal wasn’t to have him broken, just willing to sacrifice himself for others as had been demonstrated almost every year since the boy had started school.

If Dumbledore was aware, that meant he was actively covering the abuse. Poppy was required to complete health checks on every student at the start of the year. Either she was complicit or was being forced into obedience. While he could believe Dumbledore of the deception, he struggled to believe the matron would risk her healers’ vows over a child.

Blinking out of his reverie, he realised the boy had already left and a frown creased his forehead. Striding from the room, he made his way to the Hospital Wing, pushing open the doors, he waited for Poppy to appear. Self-respecting adults did not shout, especially not when wards would alert the woman to his presence.

“Severus? Is everything alright?” Concern laced her voice as she tied her dressing gown closed. It was after curfew apparently; time had gotten away from him.

“Poppy, I have discovered something a little off and I wondered if you could shed some light on a situation with a student?” He flicked his eyes towards her office.

“Of course, I will help however I can. Come, let us relax in my office, I will call for some tea.” She bustled off, summoning a house-elf once she entered the room.

Once the tea arrived, Severus cast a series of detection charms, when they came up clear, he cast several wards ensuring nothing would be overheard. The matron raised a brow as she sipped her tea and waited for his explanation. He had always appreciated Poppy’s no-nonsense attitude. He prepared his own cup and settled himself across the desk from her and considered the best way to attack the situation.

“Poppy, I know that at the start of every school year, you carry out a full diagnostic of all students to ensure they are in good health.” He paused to take a sip, waiting for her nod of acknowledgement. “Are there any students that do not receive the health check?”

“Of course, there are a few students every year that opt out of the health check. I am informed in each case of their personal healer and as such, I only treat any injuries or issues that they experience while at Hogwarts. Their general care is handled by someone selected by their parents or magical guardian.” She did not ask him why; she knew that he would share whatever he could. She knew he wouldn’t ask unless it was important.

Silence settled over the pair as Severus considered how best to ask the question. Unfortunately, his options were limited. With a sigh, he set down his teacup.

“Is Harry Potter one such student?”

The matron’s eyebrow quirked up and she mirrored his action, fine china clacking against the desk.

“As a matter of fact, he is. Dumbledore informed me that he receives the best care from his personal healer, and I am not to perform a deep scan on the boy. I am only permitted to treat any injuries he receives while at Hogwarts, which, admittedly, is a lot. All of the paperwork submitted was in order.”

Worry creased her forehead when the Potions Master didn’t say anything. “Severus? Why do you ask?”

“Something has gone wrong Poppy. I have seen something which indicates he is not receiving any form of care, in actuality, he is possibly being abused.”

* * *

Harry paced the darkened halls of Hogwarts. It was after curfew and the stones echoed with his shuffling footsteps. Eventually, he found himself at the base of an abandoned tower, dust thick on the floor. In a haze, he wandered up the stairs until he stepped out onto a balcony that ran around the top floor of the tower.

Looking around, he huffed and sprawled out on the hard stone, staring off into the star-strewn sky. It was cold out, the sting of winter in the air. It helped burn off the fog in his mind.

He had been discovered. His shame, his secret. Ever since he had come to Hogwarts, he had worked to keep it from everyone. His bruised and battered body hidden under baggy clothes. It wasn’t like anyone noticed anyway, all they saw was a miniature of his father, failing to see that he was consistently smaller than the other boys in his year. Malnutrition and constantly broken bones caused him to grow small and stunted.

But no one saw. Either that or they didn’t want to see. That thought haunted him. The thought that he had been left with the Dursleys, that someone had known or at least had an idea of what would happen to him. The idea that someone had seen him in that first year and had turned away.

Dumbledore had turned him away. That first year when he had begged not to return to his relatives and had been sent back. So he had stopped trying, accepting that this was his lot in life, that this was what he deserved. He was poison, everyone around him died or was hurt, things always went wrong. So his summers were his penance, his punishment for failure.

For the first time in a long time, he exhaled and allowed the glamours he wore constantly to dissolve. He felt exposed, raw. Having Snape rifle through his mind had stripped him bare, forcing him to face his life.

Whenever he came to the school, he tried to forget, just for a little while, what his life was like. Stepping into the role of the Boy-Who-Lived, behaving as everyone expected.

His house of cards had come tumbling down.

Part of him hoped that Snape would ignore what he had seen but thinking back over the look of absolute horror on the man’s face, Harry knew that something would come of it.

Perhaps the man would think to save him? He was not worth saving.

Perhaps he would take up the mantle of punishment during the school year? He deserved it. He was poison, a freak, abnormal, he did not deserve family, friends, freedom.

Harry couldn’t help but think that irrespective of what Snape wanted to do, nothing would change. He would be pushed into the firing line and would succeed by the skin of his teeth. Bloody, battered and bruised he would be sent back to the Dursleys for his yearly conditioning only to repeat it again.

He slid an icy cold hand inside his robes and under his shirt, tracing his fingers over his ribs. Unconsciously, he began counting them, numbers soothed his anxious mind. He could feel the scars stretching across his skin. He could no longer remember what scars belonged to which beatings. Still, tracing the jagged lines, the ropey marks, calmed something in his agitated mind.

He watched the moon creep over the sky. He knew he should go back to the common room. Hermione and Ron would have been waiting for him to return, to complain at length about Snape. He couldn’t bring himself to move. The idea of facing whatever was waiting for him was simply exhausting. After being broken open so violently, he wasn’t sure he could put the mask back on.

Curling onto his side, he tugged his robes tightly around his body. His gaze drifted out over the grounds, the Forbidden Forest rustling in the distance. He could feel the hard stone under his hip, unforgiving, punishing, just like he deserved. He should have been better, should have been able to keep his memories from Snape. Huffing out a sigh, he mentally shook his head. But of course, he wasn’t better. He wasn’t intelligent like Hermione, he wasn’t clever like Ron. He was the stupid little freak who routinely lead people into danger. Who got people killed. A flash of Cedric’s cold dead eyes sucked the breath from his body.

They had become friends of a sort during the tournament. Cedric, of course, had been happy with Cho, but Harry had carried a flame for the older boy. He had never done anything about it, little freaks didn’t deserve relationships, didn’t deserve love. And he had gotten his first crush killed. He knew, now, without a doubt, that he could never burden someone with himself.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew he was going to die, knew that he wouldn’t see out the war. His purpose was simply to take Voldemort down with him. He had accepted this. Honestly, he was looking forward to the end. His existence was agony so he could only hope that the end would come soon, that he could fulfil his purpose and end things before too many others died.

He allowed his thoughts to drift, eyes staring unseeing into the night as his fingers resumed tracing his ribs. The moon slid across the sky, slipping below the horizon and still, he didn’t move. He was taking too much of a risk by remaining, but still, the will to move abandoned him. Someone would find him eventually and he would paste on his Boy-Who-Lived face and continue on. Until then, he would watch the sunrise and remember to breathe.


	2. Chapter 2

Severus strode through the empty hallways. Potter had not returned to his dorm following their Occlumency lesson. His discussion with Poppy churned through his mind, she had been unable to show him the paperwork, but had checked herself and confirmed it was all authentic. Which meant the documents had been faked expertly. Either someone was feeding Dumbledore a lie (unlikely), or Dumbledore was actively lying about the boy’s welfare. The question was why.

Potter was the Dark Lord’s weakness, in his insanity, he had fixated on the boy and would not give up destroying him. It was deeply illogical, but then again, logic had fled long before the Dark Lord had been vanquished fourteen years ago.

What benefit would there be to having the boy raised in an abusive home? He considered the boy’s behaviour; he had no sense of self-preservation or self-worth, he was always willing to throw himself into danger to protect others.

The man paused in a dusty corridor. Perhaps the abuse was the forging. Perhaps the boy was a blade. Aimed by a Light Lord against the Dark. But if that was the case, his vow to protect the boy was a lie. He had never truly protected him. Lily’s son, his sister in all but blood. He had failed in his duty to the boy, he had allowed himself to be blinded by his hatred of James, had not been willing to see the truth.

Well. He was no longer blinded. He would seek to repair what had been damaged. But first, he had to find the boy.

He stopped and looked around, not recognising this section of Hogwarts. He could see the dust that lay thick on the floor had been disturbed recently. He followed the trail, hoping that Hogwarts was helping him. He soon found himself at the base of a tower and with his heart in his mouth, made his way up the stairs.

The stairs spiralled around the inside curve of the tower, letting out onto open floor spaces with large windows. He paced all the way to the top, following the disturbed dust to find an open-air top floor. Archways were carved into the walls, a balcony wrapped around the outside. Stepping out, he looked around but could see nothing. Stomach sinking, he looked again and noticed a bundle of fabric hidden mostly behind an arch. Striding over, he realised it was Potter, lying on the stone, staring into the distance.

Suppressing a sigh of relief, he crouched down by the boy and reached out to grasp his shoulder.

“Potter.”

The boy gave a quiet hum but otherwise ignored him, eyes fixed somewhere on the horizon.

“Potter you need to get up. We need to talk.”

A frown creased the boy's forehead.

With an exasperated huff, Severus jigged his shoulder. “Harry-”

Green eyes snapped to him and he faltered for a moment. The boy blinked, rising quickly, and shook out his robes. Severus rose slowly, peering at the boy who suddenly looked as if he hadn't spent the night lying on a cold stone balcony.

“Hello Professor. Sorry for leaving our lesson. Is it time for breakfast?” His tone was measured, calm.

“Potter.” He saw a minute flinch at the name. “Harry,” He amended, much to the boys' apparent surprise. “We need to discuss what I saw during our lesson.”

Severus watched as the boy stilled, could see the thoughts flitting behind shadowed eyes.

“What do you mean Sir?” The words were cool, controlled, attempting to hide fear and caution.

“Harry, there is no need to play coy. I saw your memories, saw the abuse.” Severus stated, watching the response closely.

The boy scoffed. “I am not abused.”

He couldn’t help the eyebrow that winged up, expression incredulous. “If you witnessed one of your friends being treated as you have been, how would you react?”

He saw rage wash over the boy. “No.” A hand cut harshly through the air.

“No, what? No, it’s not abuse? What if it was Miss Granger brought low, beaten and bloody? Mr Weasley aching with hunger? Miss Weasley who is so malnourished that she vomits if she ate a normal-sized portion?”

Severus couldn't help but sneer at the glare he got.

“Of course it would be abuse. Nobody deserves to be treated that way.” The boy’s fists were clenched and trembling.

“So then, why are you not abused?” He folded his arms; this was an important moment. Severus could see he had the opportunity to try and break through the conditioning.

“That's different.” was snapped back.

Severus raised a brow. “How so, Mr Potter?”

That minute flinch again, how had he never noticed it before? Clearly his last name was a trigger for something. A muscle in the boys’ jaw clenched, flickering. Eyes closed; he could see Potter warring with himself. Suddenly the posture shifted, a submissive stance, rage and righteous indignation draining away.

“Freaks deserve their punishment. Freaks do not deserve friends. Freaks do not deserve food or clean water. Freaks are only a burden. Freaks are not loved. Freaks are never good enough.” The monologue was delivered in a flat tone, the words scraping against Severus’ ears.

A crack shivered down his heart. Without thinking, he stepped forward, gently carding long fingers through messy black hair. Ignoring the initial flinch, he tilted the boys chin up.

“You are not a freak Harry, you did not deserve to be treated in such a way.”

The boy shuddered and stepped away, shaking his head. “Was there something you wanted sir?”

Severus debated whether to allow the topic change. “It is almost breakfast Potter; you should return to the dorms to prepare for the day.”

The boy inclined his head in acknowledgement and left.

* * *

Hermione and Ron tracked him down as he stared into his cup of tea in the Great Hall. He had cast a few cleaning charms on himself and reset his glamours rather than face returning to the dorms.

“Harry!” Hermione cried, rushing over and grabbing his shoulder. He was too raw to prevent himself from recoiling at the contact. “What happened last night? Ron said you never returned to the dorm.”

“Nothing happened Hermione, it was a tough lesson so I slept in the Room of Requirement.”

She threw her arms around him. “Oh Harry, we waited up for you. You should have come talk to us instead of being alone.”

It was too much, she kept touching him, kept talking, he couldn't bear it.

“What if I wanted to be alone Hermione?” His voice was harsh. “What if I didn't want to talk about it, to hash it over and over and over just to satisfy your curiosity and obsessive need to know everything. Did it ever occur to you that I like my privacy and you are not entitled to know every little detail about me?” He hissed the words out, avoiding raising his voice so that no one would notice, but he could feel eyes watching.

He could see the hurt welling in her eyes, see Ron's gobsmacked expression shifting to righteous anger. He couldn't deal with this anymore.

Standing abruptly, he turned and walked out of the Great Hall, ignoring his shouted name. Instead, he made his way to Professor Snape’s office, hoping the door would be unlocked. Pushing open the door, he snatched his bag from just inside it and made his way to class.

Ignoring the growing whispers around him, he moved through the day in a grey haze. Participating when required, focusing on his schoolwork to the exclusion of all else. Every class, Hermione tried to have a tearful conversation, Ron tried to bluster and demand. He just walked by, numb. His secret was out now, there was no more hiding. Snape would tell someone, anyone and it would be all over the school in no time.

He can’t help the sad sigh that escaped him. He had to distance himself from Ron and Hermione before they found out. Had to save them the hassle of being his friend, of going down with his ship. He wasn’t worth it, wasn't worth their pain, their energy, nothing. Freaks don't deserve to have friends. Freaks don't deserve to have a family. Freaks only deserve to be alone.

He vaguely registered distressed conversations around him discussing the breakout in Azkaban. The Death Eaters that had been imprisoned there had been freed. The Dark Lord must be ecstatic, but he couldn’t feel anything.

Hermione and Ron tried to talk to him about it, about how the ministry was blaming Sirius, but Sirius had left him too. Sirius was more focused on vengeance against Pettigrew or holding old grudges against Snape than him. Sirius didn’t care about Harry, the one person who should have. He was still unworthy of love and attention. His Godfather had left after the Tournament, had left him to suffer, to grieve, to process his life falling apart alone. Just like he left after his parents were killed. He was not deserving of being loved by the one who should; vengeance was more important.

Instead of going back to Gryffindor tower at the end of the day, he retreated to the Room of Requirement and buried himself in study. Perhaps if he were better, Cedric wouldn't have died. Perhaps if he were better, he would be worth something.

Something in him broke when Snape found out about him, about his dirty secret. Hogwarts had been his haven, his escape from the hell that was his life, but now that had been broken too.

He had known it was an illusion, known that Hogwarts was almost as dangerous as his home life. He had clung to the illusion anyway. Now that had been torn from him; Hogwarts was tainted with his abnormality, his freakishness. There was no longer any escape from his penance.

* * *

He waited for some response from Snape, some retaliation, but nothing really happened in the few days that followed. So he retreated, using the tools that got him through each summer. He stopped thinking, stopped fighting, became obedient. It was the only solution he could find as he waited for the blade to fall. Each day that passed where he remained free to wander around the school unpunished, the tension running through him ratcheted up another notch.

He ignored the self-satisfied smirks from Umbridge who believed her detentions had finally broken him. He ignored the sniping from Malfoy and Snape, keeping his head down and just studying.

He no longer heard his friends trying to talk to him. He stopped eating, avoiding the Great Hall because he knew it was filled with eyes that knew, that judged. Starvation was nothing new to him. He consumed the bare minimum; it wouldn't do for him to collapse, that would draw attention. He was very familiar with the limits his body had and employed judicious use of his invisibility cloak and access to the kitchens to ensure he remained functional.

After three days of him hiding from the world, the Twins tracked him down, dragging him to the kitchen to ensure he had eaten. He tried to protest but weakened through the self-imposed starvation and rolling in apathy, he couldn’t find the will to fight, simply sitting obediently and eating what was given to him until he couldn’t take any more. Every day afterwards, the Twins would track him down, making him eat and sitting with him while he studied. Sometimes they tried to talk to him, but mostly they just sat with him so he wouldn’t be alone.

With his mental and literal retreat from the world, the dreams stopped. His mind was perfectly empty, nothing to see, nothing to influence. Voldemort's efforts were wasted. Snape set detentions, remedial potions lessons, asked him to stay back. He never did anything in front of the other students that could be construed as disrespectful, but he never showed, much to the Potion Master's growing irritation. He couldn’t face the man, he knew he was delaying the inevitable punishment but couldn’t bring himself to do otherwise. Perhaps if he delayed long enough, made the man angry enough, the Potions Master would accidentally lose control and kill him. Then at least everything would be over…

Umbridge’s grip on the school tightened. Hagrid was placed on probation, Harry barely noticed that all of the Care of Magical Creatures classes were monitored by the pink toad. Divination suffered the same treatment, and all could see Trelawney’s slow descent into paranoia.

Hermione was surprised when he showed up for the next DA session. She handed him the notes, allowing him to lead the class. She tried to talk to him once again, but he would just turn away and eventually, she stopped. From then on, Hermione would set up the lessons and he would teach before retreating once more into himself. It was important that those who were forced to interact with him were protected, that they could defend themselves.

Educational Decree Number Twenty-Six was released, prohibiting teachers from discussing anything not related to their subject with students. The noose around the school had tightened further, Umbridge was relentless in her desire for control.

* * *

It had been two weeks since their initial Occlumency lesson and the boy had retreated into himself. He was never disrespectful, silently accepting whatever punishments were meted out during class; handing in meticulously completed homework. But the boy never turned up for his detentions, or for his Occlumency lessons. Nor would he remain behind after class, slipping out with the last students.

Severus had tried Legillimency on the boy during class and any meals he showed up for and was met with a grey fog he could not penetrate. Apparently, their first session had triggered some natural defence which prevented his mind from being penetrated. Unfortunately, it had also resulted in the boy withdrawing deeply into himself.

He knew that this had gone on too long already. It was time for Severus to meet with Dumbledore and discuss their mutual problem.

“Headmaster.” He greeted, sweeping into the older man’s office and seating himself in front of the oversized desk.

“Severus. What brings you to my office this evening?” The old man’s eyes twinkled, and he felt the brush of Legillimency against his mind.

“Your golden boy is posing an issue.” He sneered. He would have to play this carefully so as to not arouse Dumbledore’s suspicions.

The old man chuckled and popped a lemon drop into his mouth, leaning back in his chair. “How so Severus?”

“His disobedience and arrogance know no bounds.” He spat. “He refuses to attend his detentions or his Occlumency lessons. I am wasting my valuable time on the boy and he can’t even be bothered to show up!” He rose and began to pace, allowing some rage to seep out. The old man needed to believe he still loathed the boy.

“Now, now Severus. I am sure there is a perfectly valid reason why the boy is failing to attend. I will speak to him and he will attend your next lesson promptly.”

Severus sneered at the man, folding his arms tightly. At the old man’s gesture, he swept from the room without another word. If anyone could force the boy to meet with him privately, it would be Dumbledore.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about not posting last night, my parents came to town and mum took me to see a show. Here are two chapters for you all to enjoy. Thanks for coming along for the ride!

* * *

Severus had Potions with the fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins that afternoon. Seeking an excuse, he waited for Malfoy to sabotage the dark-haired boys’ potion and assigned detention for that evening, the boy went white and shook as he acknowledged the punishment.

Following dinner, he waited in his office and soon heard a quiet scuff just outside of his open doorway. Eventually, the boy shuffled into the frame, head bowed, hands tucked deep into pockets.

“Well come in Potter.” He internally flinched at his harsh tone.

The boy twitched violently and lurched into the room, stopping in front of the desk. With an exasperated sigh, Severus flicked his hand and the door slammed shut. The boy was shaking so much he was almost vibrating out of his robes.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake Potter, sit down.”

The boy sat. On the floor. Severus stood and peered over the front of the desk. Potter was curled in on himself barely moments away from cowering and shielding his head with his arms. This was not going well.

“Potter. I am not going to hurt you. Please sit in the chair.” He summoned the straight back chair he kept nearby for students to sit in and slowly, the boy levered himself up to sit in it. Hunched over, he looked like he was waiting to be hit, waiting for the reprimand.

Softening his tone as much as he could, Severus sighed. “Harry, will you look at me?”

Arms wrapped tightly around the boy’s torso and slowly, the head came up, last came the eyes, but eventually, they inched their way up until they met Severus’ obsidian. He could see the fear in those wide green eyes and his heart clenched. Lily’s eyes had never been so rich, she had never seen the darkness of life. She had struggled to understand what his childhood had been like. This boy though, her son with her eyes, he knew. The part of his heart that missed his best friend twanged painfully to see such fear directed at him.

“Harry, up until your lesson, I was unaware of your home life situation.” The boy snorted and he frowned.

“We had all been told that you had been raised by a normal muggle family, away from your fame in the wizarding world. We had been told that you had been raised aware of the wizarding world and your role in it.” Incredulity mixed with pain washed over delicate features.

“From your memories, I can see that is not the case.” The boy snorted again, some of the tension seeping out of his shoulders.

“I am surprised that you did not end up in Slytherin with your childhood. The survival instinct instilled from such an upbringing normally results in children being placed in my house.”

A curious flush crept up the boy’s cheeks. Quirking an eyebrow, he waited for an explanation. Eventually, Potter mumbled something.

“Harry. Speak clearly. I cannot abide by mumbling.”

The boy huffed. “The hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, I asked it not to.”

Severus could feel his eyebrows attempt to crawl into his hairline. “And why would you do such a thing?”

“Well I was eleven, Hagrid and Ron told me that Slytherins were bad, that Voldemort had been one too just after telling me he had caused my parents deaths. Then I met Malfoy and he was a prat and went to Slytherin. So, I asked it not to put me in Slytherin, so I ended up in Gryffindor.” The words tumbled out in a rush.

He couldn’t resist the urge to massage his temples. Of course. And who had organised Hagrid to meet with the boy first? A man who was notorious for his loyalty to Dumbledore. The meeting with the Weasleys could have been fortuitous circumstance or could have been staged, it was hard to be sure anymore. And of course, Malfoy could always be relied on to be a perfect pureblood prince. Someone like Harry would never respond well to such behaviour.

Coming out of his musings, Severus noticed the boy was agitated, jittering in his seat.

“Of course, it makes sense.” He waved away any further comment on the topic. “Irrespective, it is time we begin to employ some Slytherin cunning, yes?” A wicked smirk tweaked his lips and he could see equal parts concern and curiosity wash over the boy’s face.

“What are you thinking Professor?”

“I have some proof that Dumbledore is aware of your situation and is actively working to conceal your treatment from others. I propose we begin training in secret to rectify some of the damage done to your person. Unfortunately, we do not know who can be trusted so no one can know. We have already been provided with the perfect excuse in your remedial potions’ lessons. I couldn’t help but note that overnight you seem to have mastered Occlumency?”

Watching the flickering expressions across the boys’ face was amusing. Eventually, the boy settled on hesitant resolve.

“Alright Professor, I can’t say I wouldn’t appreciate some proper training. Keeping it secret makes sense. I’m not sure what happened after our first lesson, I just settled into the empty that I use during the summer with the Dursleys. I do have one question though?” The boy had gone from sounding confident to staring at his fingers twisting in his lap.

“Yes?” Severus asked. It was good to see the boy had some brains in his head.

“Why are you helping me? I’m not good for much, except perhaps being a weapon to take down Him. But then I don’t think I’m meant to survive our final confrontation.” He trailed off, fingers twisted tight and white together.

Severus sighed. He had hoped the boy wouldn’t ask; he wasn’t sure why wasn’t sure any explanation he could give would be sufficient.

“I don’t know.” The boy looked up, eyes wide with surprise and he couldn’t help but grimace a little. “I want to help you, but beyond that, I am not sure.”

The boy nodded, swallowing. “Alright, may I go now?”

Severus waved him to the door. “I will find an excuse to give you detention in our next class so that we can develop a plan moving forward.”

* * *

They settled into an odd rhythm. Professor Snape would routinely give him detentions as well as his allocated Remedial Potions lessons; they would meet and study, some nights it was Potions, others it was Duelling, Practical Herbology, Defence and the Dark Arts. The topics were wide-ranging and varied, challenging him in a way he hadn’t experienced before.

Now that the Slytherins weren't sabotaging his every attempt at a potion, he found he was quite good at it. The hours of cooking for his relatives refined his cooking technique and he found the skills translated well. Snape seemed surprised at how comfortable he was with a knife but never asked where he learned to chop and dice and slice.

Duelling was exhausting, to begin with. He was still malnourished so his endurance was abysmal, but as time wore on he found himself improving rapidly, much to the pleasure of Snape. The Potions Master seemed to take savage pleasure in going back over all of the content covered in his DADA classes, correcting him at every turn, but as they neared the end of the review, Harry found that he had improved vastly.

Snape organised for him to receive potions covertly at each meal in order to rectify and repair some of the damage done to his body. The Potions Master made no promises, no conciliatory words regarding his life, his body or his future. Something for which Harry was surprisingly grateful. The man never lied to him as far as he could tell and somehow, he found himself trusting the dour Potions Master. He slowly came out of his funk, encouraged by Snape to play nice with his friends to avoid arousing further suspicion. Harry worked at maintaining the empty fog as an Occlumency shield with general success.

The Twins reacted with a mix of suspicion and happiness at his returning to some semblance of normality. They developed the habit of bookending him whenever he was in the Great Hall, fending off Ron and Hermione when they became too invasive. They were kind to him, though avoided physical contact as he continued flinching every time they touched him. While he revelled in the small acts of kindness they continued to show him, some part of him was still terrified of touch, of being hurt.

Valentine’s day was the following weekend and the DA met on the Thursday night prior. He had been tidying up the room, waiting for everyone to leave so that he could re-enter the room and study for a while. Everything was quiet and he was just about to leave when he realised that he was not alone. Cho had remained behind, she had been standing in the middle of the room, obviously waiting for him to notice her.

“Harry!” She said brightly, rushing to him. It took everything he had to not flinch back when she grabbed his hand. “I was wondering if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me? I’ve been waiting for you to ask but you never seemed to find the courage, so I thought I would just go for it you know?”

Harry blinked, slowly extracting his hand. “I’m sorry Cho, I have detention.”

“Oh well, maybe another time?” She was barely deterred.

He shook his head, stepping away. “I’m really flattered Cho, but I’m not really interested.”

She looked crestfallen, then angry. “So why did you kiss me before Christmas?! I have been waiting for you!”

“I’m sorry Cho, I didn’t realise, and you kissed me…” Harry trailed off.

She looked furious, Harry barely had time to process when her hand snapped out, slapping him across the face. She stormed off in a huff, once the sound of the door slamming behind her echoed through the room, Harry crumpled.

Hogwarts had always been his safe place. While he had been attacked numerous times by Voldemort or with magic, no one had ever actually struck him. Yet again, his haven had been violated by the outside.

He was lost, drifting in an ocean of awful memories, beatings layered over beatings. His body wracked with remembered pain. He was cold and alone, drifting between memory and sleep. Time ceased to matter as he curled up on the ground, shielding himself from the imaginary blows, whimpers and quiet pleading fell from his lips.

* * *

Severus was sitting at the head table, attempting to drown himself in a mug of black coffee when he noticed a ripple of a disturbance at the Gryffindor table. Watching closely, he could see Granger hissing at the Weasley boy who was attempting to choke on his breakfast.

Reaching up, he tapped his ear, murmuring an eavesdropping spell under his breath and suddenly, he could hear Granger and Weasley.

“No, ‘Mione, he never came back last night.”

“What do you mean?! He was right behind us! He said he wasn’t going to disappear again. He promised!”

“I dunno ‘Mione, he’s half crazy, I don’t know what you expect anymore. He checked out after Christmas and hasn’t really checked back in.”

“What are you talking about Ron? He had those two weeks where he was weird, but he’s been normal since then.”

Severus’ mind whirled as he cancelled the spell. The boy had been doing better. He was surprised the youngest Weasley boy had picked up on Potter’s continued distance while Granger had not. Potter had not returned to the dorms last night. From their discussion two evenings ago during their herbology lesson, there had been a DA meeting last night. Perhaps something had gone wrong?

Setting down his mug, Severus swept out of the Great Hall. Striding through the hallways, he considered his best options. Making his way to the seventh-floor corridor where Harry told him the DA met, he paced, mentally begging the room to let him in, hoping Potter would be there.

An aged timber door materialised. With his face impassive, he eased the door open, stepping in quickly and closing the door behind himself. Looking around the cavernous room, he could see it was still set up for the DA meeting last night. Mirrored walls, cushions and practice dummies littered the space. With a frown, he cast his gaze around. Potter had to be here somewhere.

He quietly inspected the room, eventually noticing a small pile of crumpled black by a bookcase. Walking over, he realised Potter was curled up into a ball; his face pressed to his knees, arms wrapped around his head. With a sigh, Severus sank down in front of the boy whose frame was shuddering quietly.

“Harry.” He said softly, and the boy twitched violently. “Harry, it’s Severus.” A part of him cringed at the familiarity but knew anything more formal would cause a negative reaction.

The arms wrapped around the boys’ head loosened.

“Harry, will you please look at me?” His tone was even and soft. He rebelled at such kindness, it was so far from his nature, but anything else would be a disaster.

Slowly, the arms dropped away, and pained green eyes looked up at him.

“Harry?” He queried one final time and suddenly had his arms full of the distressed teenager.

Rocking backwards, he braced himself with one arm, the other coming around the boy’s body automatically. Small hands fisted in his robes and he felt a face press into his neck. The frame in his arms was still too thin, even with the new potion regimen and regular meals. He was surprised that he didn’t feel more uncomfortable as he tightened the arm around the boy.

“Tell me what happened?” He asked quietly, rubbing a hand up and down Potter’s back.

In stops and starts, broken sentences and sobs, the story came out. It was rather simple, but the breach of trust was enough to send the boy spiralling into his memories.

Withholding a deep sigh, Severus rearranged them to be more comfortable, willing a wall behind him and feeling eternally grateful for the magic of the Room of Requirement. He continued rubbing one hand up and down the boys back while the other carded through his hair. The black locks were thick and slightly coarse under his fingertips, the texture almost audible as he stroked it. A shiver ran up his spine at the feel of it.

Allowing his mind to drift, he considered the burgeoning friendship he had been developing with the boy during their lessons. When he wasn't being a brat, Potter was bright and witty. They quickly settled into banter that was so familiar it made his heartache for the woman he once thought of as a sister. Given the opportunity to spend time together without the pressures of their roles in the world, he could see so much more of Lily in him. The boy was inherently kind and not so much reckless but genuinely lacking any self-awareness or worth. No longer did he see a miniature of James Potter and it was growing harder as the days trickled by to continue spewing vitriol in the classroom. While they had agreed the pretence was critically necessary, he could now see the wounds he was cutting every time he was cruel.

The boys' mask was excellent, but now that he had seen the truth, Severus was no longer fooled, and it made his heart clench for the broken boy in his arms. Nothing ever went right for Potter; he was Fates whipping boy just as Severus was. They were a right pair, he smirked to himself.

***** flashback*****

The boy had arrived for detention, as prompted in Potions when Malfoy had, once again sabotaged the potion they had been working on. The boy had gotten much quicker with a shield and thankfully, no one had been hurt. Of course, he had to deduct points from Gryffindor and Potter had argued, so he had assigned detention.

He had planned to have the boy prepare the potion once more so it could be graded correctly. As he watched though, Severus couldn’t help but notice the boy seemed jittery. That kind of nervous energy was disastrous in the lab but could be used elsewhere to great effect.

“Change of plans.” He rose from behind his desk, waving his hand to lock the door for his office and turning to his quarters. “We will be duelling tonight. Follow me.”

They had only duelled a few times before and while the boy’s efforts had not been abysmal, it was a scathing indictment of the schooling offered at Hogwarts. Potter shuffled after him, so Severus had to quickly usher him into the duelling room adjacent to his quarters.

“Remove your robes, they will only get in the way at this stage. If you are able to cast non-verbally or wandlessly, I would recommend doing so, but I do not expect it.” Severus removed the outer layers of his robes, hanging them on the rack by the door. He moved to the other end of the room and waited for Potter to imitate him.

“Attempt to hit me. At this stage, I doubt anything you could throw would actually hurt me and I have a Masters in Defence so I will be thoroughly impressed if you are able to land any spell you cast.” He made sure his tone was even and not condescending. He wanted the boy to try, not give up.

“Do I get a reward if I succeed?” The brat had the audacity to smirk at him.

A bizarre mix of emotions flooded him. He was relieved Potter was comfortable enough to sass him, impressed by the impudence and amused by the comment. “Your reward, brat, would be a pain potion to take away your hurts.”

The grin that lit Potters face was starling to behold, it was unashamed and free. He was momentarily distracted by it and missed the wandless, non-verbal stinging hex that hit his thigh. It was barely a tickle, but there none the less.

He couldn’t help the chuckle that broke free and relished in startling the boy. “Brat. You’ll get your pain potion. Now if I may begin the lesson?”

*****flashback end*****

The tingling in his legs finally drew him out of his musings only to realise Potter had fallen asleep in his lap. With an exasperated huff, he extricated his wand to cast a feather-light charm on the boy so he could stand. Leaning against the wall, with Potter cradled in his arms, he waited for feeling to return to his extremities.

Silently, he requested the room provide a smaller space and a bed. Soon they were surrounded by what was apparently a warm and cosy studio apartment. A fire was laid in a hearth with a small seating area in front of it, a small kitchenette to one side. A door lead, assumedly, to a bathroom while a large four-poster bed took up one corner of the space. Sending up his gratitude, he made his way to the bed, cancelling the feather-light spell before removing the boy’s shoes and spelling away the heavy robes. Once the blankets were tucked around him, Severus threw a spell at the fire to warm the room. Straightening his robes and casting a quick cleaning charm on them, he strode from the room, hoping he wasn't horrendously late for his afternoon class.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And your second chapter from the evening. Enjoy! Apologies for the mild cliffy at the end.

* * *

Harry woke up warm and comfortable. Opening his eyes, confusion reigned for several moments as he attempted to parse out where he was and what had happened. Thinking back, he could remember meeting with the DA for a training session. He had a flash of Cho talking, angry, his cheek stinging, then a haze of pain and hurt. Shame washed through him, he’d had a flashback and had fallen apart. His mind helpfully supplied how he was brought out of it and he couldn’t resist burying his face in his hands in mortification. Snape had seen him breakdown, had helped bring him back.

He could remember the feel of heavy robes under his fingers, the musky masculine scent of the Potions Master, the feel of a strong arm wrapped around him and long dextrous fingers carding through his hair. The flush covering his face washed over his body as hot and cold rippled through him. In those moments, wrapped in Snape’s arms, he had felt… safe.

Shame forgotten, Harry blinked in surprise at his own feelings.

That was unexpected.

Digging deeper, he realised that he had felt safe with Snape for a long time. He was the only one who had treated him like just another student. Granted, the man had been harsh and unforgiving, but everyone else had always made exceptions and excuses for him. No one had ever really listened to him, but once Snape did, Harry felt heard for the first time in his life.

The past few weeks, their training had been intense but after they got past their expected roles in the war, after Harry stopped waiting for the man to strike him as punishment, they began to get along. Lately, there had been humour and kindness in their interactions. Granted, the Potions Master was still a snarky bastard, but Harry had realised that the man had a rather black sense of humour. Harry couldn’t deny there was growing affection, at least on his side, and he had begun to look forward to their lessons. His time with Snape, away from Potions classes, had become the bright spot of his life.

His favourite class had become duelling, they stripped down to their shirt sleeves and trousers, flinging curses at each other until they were sweaty and gasping. Snape had been using progressively more and more dangerous curses, shouting guidance and advice as they went. His reflexes were improving, casting more accurate and he could feel his body changing for the better.

He loved his lessons with Snape, where he could let go and just enjoy learning and being with someone he didn’t have to hide anything from. Snape did not judge him, not really. The man was cynical and sarcastic, but there was now an underlying kindness behind everything that took the sting out.

Harry knew he would eventually have to face the music, the Twins would be getting worried, so forced himself to attend dinner as he had slept through lunch and saw no point in turning up to half of his Friday afternoon lessons. He stoically ignored anyone questioning him about his absence, accepting the weeks’ worth of detentions in silence. Thinking it would be an appropriate punishment, they were allocated to Snape to supervise.

* * *

Saturday morning, he headed down to the Potions classroom for his existing ‘detention’ with Snape. The Potions Master had warned him he would review this weeks potion. Harry hoped and prayed that the Professor wouldn’t say anything about finding him after his breakdown. He was absolutely mortified over what had happened.

They had been brewing for an hour and had reached a point when the brew had to simmer for forty-five minutes. After washing his hands, Snape turned to Harry with a frown.

“Potter. It is time you take control of your story.”

Harry blinked, looking up at the other man in bemusement.

“I have been reading the Prophet, reading the stories that Skeeter has been publishing. Your continued silence on the matter is not helping anyone.”

“But when I speak out, I get punished.” Harry leant against the workbench, trying to figure out where Snape was going with the topic.

Snape snorted. “Loudly arguing with toads is not what I am suggesting. One of my ex-students is a writer for the Prophet. Not Skeeter of course. While I am sure you are not a fan of the paper, it is the news source for wizarding Britain. I am proposing you meet with Miss Cochrane to share your story, your side of things. It is a gamble, but you need to take control of your own press.”

Harry mulled it over. While he hated the press and hated the Prophet, he had never tried to share his side before. Not fully, not honestly. Perhaps it was time. Exhaling heavily, he looked up into Snape’s eyes. “I trust you.” Something flared in the obsidian orbs.

So it was organised, Miss Cochrane would meet them in Snape’s office tomorrow night so that the exclusive would go public with the Monday morning edition.

* * *

Monday morning dawned bright and sunny; winter was finally giving way to spring. Harry made his way down to breakfast and settled next to Neville who never pestered him with questions. The Twins sat on his other side and they began eating quietly as Harry tried to ignore his growing trepidation. He got a few sidelong glances when his hands shook or he twitched at a loud noise, but no one commented, for which he was grateful.

The interview last night had been painful, having to share his story was difficult. Hermione and Ron descended, full of questions and demands on where he kept disappearing to, why he wasn’t talking to them, what was going on. He did his best to answer vaguely, to put them off. He had realised that he didn’t want to answer their invasive questions, he was no longer willing to permit their scrutiny and judgement of his life.

Not soon enough and too soon all at once, there was a rustle of wings and the morning post descended. Harry desperately tried to keep his head down, tried to pretend he didn’t know what was going to happen. He couldn’t help but allow his thoughts to drift back to Friday when Snape had found him and put him back together after his breakdown. The whole experience of being wrapped in the Potions Master, the smell, the texture of his robes, the strength of the arms around him soothed his fractious mind.

“Harry! What is this?!” Hermione’s voice cut through his thoughts and he blinked up at her. She thrust the Daily Prophet under his nose. Unfolding it, he could see an old photo of a razed village, the Dark Mark floating in the sky.

_The Return of the Dark Lord?_

The headline proclaimed, there was no author listed, the article was hard-hitting and cold, detailing the final task and the rise of Voldemort. It explained how through a Dark Arts ritual, Voldemort had been restored to corporeal form and was now terrorising Britain. It linked the attacks around the country with the Azkaban escapees. Instead of pointing Sirius Black as the leader, it posited that the Dark Lord had actually returned and was once again leading his followers in the destruction of the wizarding world.

Hysteria descended over the Great Hall. Students began fighting over copies of the Prophet, arguing loudly over the validity of the article.

“Potter.” A falsely sweet voice came from behind him.

Harry stiffened and turned slowly to face Umbridge. “Yes Professor?”

“Detention, every night for a week after dinner.” She gave him a sickly smile and he sighed, biting his tongue. Arguing would only extend his punishment and he needed to spend more time studying with Snape than anything else.

Unfortunately for Umbridge, with the article printed in the Prophet, she couldn’t ban the paper. As it also didn’t mention him by name or infer that he was the one who had given an interview, she couldn’t really punish him for that either. They both knew he had inspired the article but there was little to nothing she could do in retaliation except give him a week of detention and confiscate any copies of the article she found.

Very quickly, the students realised what she was doing and began spelling them to look like anything else. Rumour was rife throughout the school, heated arguments springing up between friends and housemates as they debated the details of the article. Never before had the school been this divided, normally they simply united against Harry and were done with it, but some were willing to see the truth no matter how horrifying it was.

The teachers were, of course, forbidden from speaking of the article, but they found ways around the decree; having obscure tangential discussions over odd points of theory. With a little lateral thinking, the senior students were able to have theological discussions with their Professors without ever actually discussing the rise of the Dark Lord and his followers. Umbridge was furious.

Harry knew that his week of detentions was going to take a lot out of him, knew that his homework was going to be subpar and his body wrecked but there was little he could do. When he had received a detention from the woman the first time at the start of the year, he had gone to see McGonagall and the woman had summarily dismissed him. Clearly, the other Professors were aware and condoned the detentions Umbridge was handing out. So his only option was to eat when he could, sleep as much as possible and hope that no one complained about his performance in class. The Twins helped keep him in some functioning order, feeding him snacks every time they saw him and helping with his homework.

The week crawled by. He had to explain to Snape that he would be unable to attend any detentions with the dour man as Umbridge took precedence. Unhappily, the Potions Master held off assigning him any remedial potions classes until the week was over, though they agreed Harry would be in his office, ready and waiting on the following Monday.

By the time it rolled around, Harry was exhausted. Seven days of detentions after dinner that lasted until midnight had worn him down. By Monday, he was reduced to a shambling husk and when he staggered into Snape’s office on Monday after dinner, some small part of him prayed for mercy.

* * *

Dinner had been a normal affair, as far as Snape was concerned. Sweeping out of the Hall he made his way to his office, knowing Potter would not be far behind. The boy had been quite eager and enthusiastic with their lessons of late. While the week of detentions from Umbridge had put a kink in their schedule, Potter had been improving rapidly and Severus could not help but hope they might succeed against the Dark Lord.

Irritation began warring with concern as the beginning of Potter’s detention came and went without the boy appearing. He had been looking rather wan as the week wore on and was surprised to realise he hoped the boy was not unwell.

Fifteen minutes late, Potter shambled into his office looking closer to an inferi than the teen he was meant to be. Eyes widening in surprise, he quickly summoned the spare chair he kept and cast a cushioning charm on the seat.

“Sit, Potter, before you fall over.”

The boy barely acknowledged the instruction, collapsing into the offered seat. Stalking around his desk to stand in front of the teen, Severus could not resist resting the back of his hand against the boy’s forehead. The skin was clammy as he breathed heavily in the quiet room.

“Potter, what is wrong with you?” He queried and the boy waved it away, breathing slowly easing. Severus couldn’t help but notice something on the back of Potter’s hand; hand darting out, he gently grasped the appendage, turning it palm down.

He Occluded hard.

The words ‘I must not tell lies’ were carved in Potter’s messy scrawl over the back of his hand.

“Potter, what is this?”

Hazy green eyes looked up at him. He could see the boys' mind was completely unguarded and quirked an eyebrow in query. The boy’s head jerked in a nod, eyes fluttering in exhaustion. Withdrawing his wand, he grasped the boy’s chin to hold him in place and murmured ‘_Legillimens_’, gently slipping into the teen’s mind. He caught a glimpse of the toad passing him a distinctive long thin black quill with an unusually sharp point. He saw the lines being written over and over, the stinging pain accompanying the memory. Severus withdrew.

Considering his options, he cast a few diagnostic charms, discovering the boy was anaemic amongst other things. With a huff, he whirled around, riffling through his potions stock before selecting a blood replenishing potion, a mild painkiller, a mild healing potion and a tiny vial of Essence of Dittany. With minimal coaxing, he had Potter down the first three then gently embrocated a few drops of Dittany into the back of his hand until only silvery marks remained.

Unfortunately, the magic of the quill made it almost impossible to remove the scar altogether. He glanced up at Potter as he worked the oil in and was suddenly captured by soft green eyes. The moment stretched as he massaged slow circles with his thumbs over the back of Potters’ work-roughened hand.

Suddenly, he shook himself, standing abruptly to move away. Dropping the hand, he folded his arms over his chest, tugging his robes tightly to his body. Green eyes fell away and he was surprised to see a flush rise on the teen’s cheekbones.

He turned away, fussing with his potions cabinet to try and calm his whirling thoughts. There had been a spark between them, the soft look Potter had given him was unmistakably full of affection. It had been so long since someone had gazed on him with such feeling. Over the years, he’d had many dalliances, but none had stayed in his bed long enough to worm their way past his defences.

Mentally he shook himself. This was not the time, he scolded. Irrespective of what was going on, the boy was underage, and he was the same age as Potter’s father. It was just as likely he had misconstrued the look and reaction. Taking a breath, he fortified his mind before turning back.

“Why did you not advise me of this sooner Potter?”

He saw the boy flinch and tried to modulate his tone. “What she is doing is illegal, Harry.”

Wide green eyes flicked up to him and he ruthlessly squashed the affection welling in his chest.

“I don’t know, it didn’t seem important. When I tried to tell McGonagall, she just told me to keep my head down, so I figured you all knew.” Potter shrugged half-heartedly and he watched fingers trail over the back of the boys newly healed hand.

Severus couldn’t help the frown that twisted his mouth. “You tried to tell Professor McGonagall? What do you mean you tried?”

The boy shrugged again and Severus had to tamp down irritation at the gesture. It was a nasty habit that Potter was stubbornly refusing to break. “I went to her after my first detention, she didn’t even let me explain, just waved me away like always.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excerpts are taken from JK Rowlings Harry Potter and the Order of The Pheonix. They are indicated throughout the chapter.

* * *

Severus watched Potter shrink into himself and sighed. “Come, Potter, no lessons for tonight. You need warmth and sugar.”

With that, he led the way towards the hidden door to his quarters. He focused on lighting the fire and preparing a tea tray instead of the boy in his loungeroom. Once ready, he returned to find Potter huddled by the fire.

“Sit Potter, before you fall over.” He nudged the boy towards one of the armchairs, settling the tea tray on a table between them and preparing his own cup.

“You’ll have to fix your own, I’m not about to pour for you.” Severus smirked behind his teacup as the boy set to with another healthy flush dusting his cheekbones.

Stopping for a moment, Severus really looked at Potter. Their training had done wonders in shaping the awkward, undersized boy into a youth that was heading towards manhood. No longer could Severus think of him as the boy he clearly was not any longer. Instead, Potter was stuck in that awkward phase between boyhood and manhood. He could already see the shape of the man Potter would grow into and it was… not unappealing.

Green eyes caught his and Severus had to admit there was a weariness, an awareness that most people his age didn’t have residing in their soul, let alone someone as young as Potter. Unfortunately, while the mind was prematurely aged with life experience, the body was still awkwardly coltish in youth and definitely underage. He could not deny though, that Potter was… Remarkably handsome. When they duelled, the youth lit up with a fire that burned deep within.

Shaking away the inappropriate musings he set aside his teacup. “What would you like to do about Umbridge? Her actions are illegal irrespective of whether she believes they are sanctioned by the school or the Ministry. Blood Quills are only authorised for use by qualified people, usually lawyers and the goblins, for completing contracts. There is magic inherent in their use, and, while this has never happened before, I can only imagine the consequences from such repeated use. It seems likely you will now struggle to lie.”

He could see horror fill the youth’s expression and had to suppress his amusement. While Potter didn’t seem to lie very often, those lies he told were important. Severus shuddered to think of how quickly he would die if such a thing were done to him.

“Yes, it is rather unfortunate. I will do some research into blood magic to see if there is any way to reverse the effects, but I would not hold out much hope. Instead, you will have to learn to cleverly work around the truth, your Occlumency should assist in this.”

Potter nodded in acknowledgement and turned back to the fire as a comfortable silence settled over the pair.

* * *

Harry was confused.

When people touched him, it inevitably hurt. With his relatives, pain and humiliation were always guaranteed. With his peers, especially Ron and Hermione, contact was always brash, just a little too aggressive for his comfort. Ron’s back slaps winded him, Hermione’s hugs crushed his ribs.

Madame Pomfrey was the only other person who had cause to touch him regularly though his numerous injuries over the years. She was always brisk and efficient, but never gentle and kind. He was always in pain in some form or another when he had contact with her, even if she wasn’t the one causing the pain. The Twins were kind to him, but they avoided physical contact after they saw how much pain and fear it caused him.

But Snape… His touch was either soft and comforting or not at all. His chest hurt with how much he wanted that gentle touch back. No one had ever done that before. His skin echoed with the feeling of Snape’s thumbs rubbing over the back of his hand. He couldn’t help but remember his breakdown and the firm, comforting arm around his waist, gentle fingers in his hair. He half considered hurting himself just to experience that comfort again.

Except when Snape had recoiled. The man must have seen something in his expression, in his eyes, the aching need that filled him. He couldn’t help the flush of shame that rose in him when the man turned away. Of course, he didn’t deserve kindness, as much as Snape had been trying to convince him he wasn’t a freak, what normal person was almost brought to tears by someone touching their hand? The man had just been trying to stop him from bleeding all over the place and Harry had to think it was more than that.

All Snape wanted to do was make sure he reached the final battle in one piece, able to do what needed to be done. That was what they were training for after all. Trepidation filled him as he considered the final battle. He believed he now stood a chance of defeating Voldemort. Snape had been an excellent teacher, though a hard taskmaster. Harry still didn’t expect to survive the confrontation, but that was ok. The world would go on without him. No one really cared if he lived or died as long as he took Voldemort with him.

He sighed, staring into the flames. Moving to take a sip of his tea he realised his cup was empty. Replacing it on the tray, he stood, thanking Snape before leaving quietly, lost in thought. The news that the blood quill had irrevocably changed him was disconcerting. Knowing that he could no longer lie was uncomfortable and illuminating. On reflection, he had noticed a growing discomfort every time he tried to lie. At least now he knew why.

Harry would have to become a master of half-truths and misdirection. At least it would be something new to distract him. Unfortunately, he could see it ending badly. All he needed was someone to ask him a question at the wrong time and he was likely to blurt out an uncomfortable truth. He hoped he would be able to hold out long enough to complete his destiny.

Shoulders bowed, he shuffled his way back to Gryffindor tower, bracing himself to face the fresh interrogation of his friends.

* * *

They were in the middle of a ‘detention’ where Harry was working through his homework while Snape marked essays when a woman’s scream cut through the comfortable silence.

[Snape’s head jerked upwards; he was gazing at the ceiling.

“What the -?” He muttered.

Harry could hear a muffled commotion coming from what he thought might be the Entrance Hall. Snape looked around at him, frowning.

“Did you see anything unusual on your way down here, Potter?”

Harry shook his head. Somewhere above them, the woman screamed again. Snape strode to his office door, his wand still held at the ready, and swept out of sight. Harry hesitated for a moment then followed.

The screams were indeed coming from the Entrance Hall; they grew louder as Harry ran towards the stone steps leading up from the dungeons. When he reached the top he found the Entrance Hall packed; students had come flooding out of the Great Hall, where dinner was still in progress, to see what was going on; others crammed themselves on to the marble staircase.]

Harry and the rest of the student body watched in horror as Umbridge summarily dismissed the Divination Professor. The toad looked to be getting sick enjoyment from watching the batty professor fall apart. Then Dumbledore strode in through the oaken front doors and conflicting emotions washed over Harry. Tucking himself behind some sneering Slytherins, he watched as the Headmaster agreed that while Umbridge had the authority to dismiss his teachers, she did not have the ability to remove them from the grounds. Soon enough, McGonagall was ushering Trelawney back to her tower.

Dumbledore radiated satisfaction when Umbridge queried what would happen when a new divination professor was appointed. The next moment a very familiar centaur strode into the hall.

[“This is Firenze,” said Dumbledore happily to a thunderstruck Umbridge. “I think you’ll find him suitable.”]

* * *

Harry watched with disgust how all the girls in his year and up began simpering and throwing themselves at the new Divination teacher. He found it bizarre how they fussed and fluttered over the centaur who barely noticed their existence.

The papers had been reporting increasing attacks, laying the blame everywhere but where it belonged, continuing to deny the return of the Dark Lord. Students had stopped whispering hatefully about him in the halls, instead, their eyes were filled with hunger. He could almost feel their gaze like fingers over his neck, demanding that he kill off the Dark Lord before any of them lost loved ones. It made his skin itch. The Twins tried to shield him as much as possible but often there was little they could do to help.

His sessions with Snape had continued as they always had. Demanding, exhausting, and completely professional. But this persistent flicker in Harry’s heart refused to be doused by logic or reason. The Potions Master was worldly, educated, experienced. The man was witty and sarcastic, but no longer cruel. The small acts of kindness that occasionally slipped out lingered in Harry’s mind, playing over and over again until he thought he would go mad with it. The only way he got through was by Occluding every lesson. It was excellent practise, but it made everything even more draining.

His mind loved to rehash one particular Herbology session, Snape had taken him to the Forest with the intention of showing him how to forage. It had been in early March and the night had been surprisingly mild.

*****flashback*****

The had been walking deeper into the forest for the past half an hour, Snape had been quizzing him on plants that could be found in the area and which were safe to eat or not. Which could be cooked with and consumed, and which became poisonous once processed.

Finally, they reached a moonlit clearing that was dotted with different flowers and herbs. He thought he could see, tucked amongst the roots of the trees at the far end, some mushrooms. Snape walked to the nearest cluster of plants and dropped to his knees, glancing over his shoulder when Harry didn’t follow.

“If you are waiting for a written invitation, you will be waiting for a long time.”

Harry flushed at the quirked brow and hurried over, stumbling to his knees next to the professor who snorted. They began discussing the plants in front of them, Snape had Harry taste those that were safe and examine closely those that weren’t.

Harry was hyper-aware every time their shoulders would bump, their hands would brush. He could close his eyes and remember every time he had caught the musky scent of the Potions Master as they worked together.

At one point, he must have unconsciously brushed the hair from his face, leaving a smudge of dirt behind as they dug amongst the mushrooms. He had turned to reply to Snape when Harry had realised the man was staring at him. Astonished, he had watched a potion stained hand reach out to gently brush the dirt from his forehead. Harry had been able to suppress the whimper that wanted to escape at the touch, but not the flush that rose in his cheeks.

Snape had blinked, retracting his hand slowly and the moment had passed.

*****flashback end*****

Still, he loved to remember that touch, that moment of gentle contact.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I vanished for a few days. I normally try to update once a night but some nights I've got no energy to pull out my laptop and post a chapter. So have two fresh chapters as an apology. I hope you all enjoy.
> 
> I tried to have a bit of fun with this chapter, I hope it comes off well. Please let me know if you find any gaping holes in the whole 'no lying thing'
> 
> Also, excerpts are taken from Harry Potter and the Order of the Pheonix as indicated throughout the chapter.

* * *

As the weeks wore on, Harry watched his year mates slowly begin to crumble under the pressure of OWL’s. The teachers were relentless, the students worse on themselves. He discovered that Ravenclaw had bribed the house elves to supply them with the strongest coffee possible at each meal and soon the other houses followed suit. Umbridge continued grinding the school under her pink boot heel. Her increased monitoring of Care of Magical creatures was not going well and it was only a matter of time before Hagrid was shown the door.

He continued participating in the DA lessons, teaching his peers diligently what he could. All the while, he felt like he was raising a child army, preparing them to follow him to their deaths. But he knew he couldn’t leave them in ignorance. They would insist on fighting if the opportunity arose and so, he would prepare them as much as he could in the hopes they would not follow him to their demise.

One such lesson they were practising their patronuses when suddenly, Dobby materialised by his knee-shaking and wide-eyed with terror.

[“Hi Dobby!” he said. “What are you – What’s wrong?”]

[“Harry Potter, sir…” squeaked the elf, trembling from head to foot, “Harry Potter, sir… Dobby has come to warn you… But the house-elves have been warned not to tell…”

He ran headfirst at the wall. Harry, who had some experience of Dobby’s habits of self-punishment, made to seize him, but Dobby merely bounced off the stone, cushioned by his eight hats. Hermione and a few other girls let out squeaks of fear and sympathy.

“What’s happened, Dobby?” Harry asked, grabbing the elf’s tiny arm and holding him away from anything with which he might seek to hurt himself.

“Harry Potter… She… She…”

Dobby hit himself hard on the nose with his free fist. Harry seized that too.

“Who’s ‘she’, Dobby?”

But he thought he knew; surely only one ‘she’ could induce such fear in Dobby? The elf looked up at him, slightly cross-eyed, and mouthed wordlessly.

“Umbridge?” asked Harry, horrified.

Dobby nodded, then tried to bang his head on Harry’s knees. Harry held him at arm’s length.

“What about her? Dobby – she hasn’t found out about this – about us – about the DA?”

He read the answer in the elf’s stricken face. His hands held fast by Harry, the elf tried to kick himself and fell to the floor.

“Is she coming?” Harry asked quietly.

Dobby let out a howl and began beating his bare feet hard on the floor.

“Yes, Harry Potter, yes!”

Harry straightened up and looked around at the motionless, terrified people gazing at the thrashing elf.

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?” Harry bellowed. “RUN!”]

Everyone ran, scattering towards the door, fleeing down the hallways and corridors, disappearing into darkened spaces in the hopes of escaping capture. Harry quickly ordered Dobby back to the kitchens, swearing him to secrecy before fleeing himself. He was the last one out of the room, pelting towards a nearby bathroom in the hopes he could pretend that was where he had been.

Something caught his ankles and he tripped, face planting into the ground with a crunch. He could hear voices in his dazed state, the gleeful tones of Malfoy, the satisfied timbre of Umbridge. Next minute, he was being hauled upright by a smirking Malfoy. Once Harry was standing on his own, Malfoy was sent away and Harry hustled off to the Headmasters office.

[The office was full of people. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, expression serene, the tips of his long fingers together. Professor McGonagall stood rigidly beside him, her face extremely tense. Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, was rocking backwards and forwards on his toes beside the fire, apparently immensely pleased with the situation. Kingsley Shacklebolt and a tough-looking wizard with very short wiry hair whom Harry did not recognise, were positioned either side of the door like guards, and the freckled, bespeckled form of Percy Weasley hovered excitedly beside the wall, a quill and a heavy scroll of parchment in his hands, apparently poised to take notes.]

Harry Occluded as hard as he could. He would have to dance a fine line tonight. Umbridge and the use of the blood quill had rendered him unable to tell lies. So he would have to be very creative. While he was focusing on his mental shields, he missed the opening discussion between Umbridge and Fudge.

“Potter!”

His name shouted cut through Harry’s focus and be blinked, fixing a bland look at the Minister. “Yes, Minister?” He queried.

The man turned a shade of puce eerily similar to Vernon. “I expect you know why you are here?” The man ground out.

“To file assault charges?” Harry responded and Umbridge spluttered. “I was attacked in the halls this evening, I appreciate how much interest you take in my life Minister, but really, this is a little much don’t you think?”

Silence echoed through the room. From the corner of his eye, Harry could see the strain in Shacklebolts face as he tried not to laugh.

“No, Potter, we are not here for you to file assault charges.” Fudge finally replied. Harry could almost swear he could see steam rising from the man’s ears. If he could keep the Minister off-balance enough, perhaps he could escape this without betraying Snape.

“Oh, that’s a shame. If that’s not the case, I’m not sure why I am here?” He could feel the tightness in his chest at the half-truth, he was running a little too close to a lie on that one.

[“So you have no idea,” said Fudge, in a voice positively sagging with sarcasm, “why Professor Umbridge has brought you to this office? You are not aware that you have broken any school rules?”]

“What school rules have I broken Minister?” Harry’s brain was already running through them but responding with a question did not classify as lying.

He heard Umbridge screech from nearby. “What about Ministry Decrees?!”

He paused, pretending to be thinking, before shrugging. “What Ministry Decrees have I broken?” Harry couldn’t finish with ‘Professor’, as the woman was definitely not a teacher, unqualified hag.

[“So, it’s news to you, is it,” said Fudge, his voice now thick with anger, “That an illegal student organisation has been discovered within this school.”]

Damnit, that was a tight one. “Of course it isn’t a surprise that one was found, Minister. You do, after all, have excellent response times with these things.” He gestured to Shacklebolt, hoping that the inflection and flattery would distract from the admission.

“Yes of course, yes of course.” Fudge lost the awful shade to his skin, his rage abating a bit. The idiot had evidently bought it. Umbridge was unimpressed.

[“I think, Minister,” said Umbridge silkily from beside him, “we might make better progress if I fetch our informant.”

Harry couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach even as he Occluded harder. He watched as Fudge waved the woman away, who left and returned minutes later with Cho’s curly-haired friend Marietta. Harry suppressed the urge to sneer.

Umbridge consoled the tearful girl who eventually revealed her face to have SNEAK in purple pustules across her nose and cheeks. The girl wailed and fled the room when the Minister almost fell into the fire in horror.

[“Well, Minister, Miss Edgecombe came to my office shortly after dinner this evening and told me she had something she wanted to tell me. She said that if I proceeded to a secret room on the seventh floor, sometimes known as the Room of Requirement, I would find out something to my advantage. I questioned her a little further and she admitted that there was to be some kind of meeting there. Unfortunately, at that point, the hex came into operation and upon catching sight of her face in my mirror the girl became too distressed to tell me any more.”]

[“You will remember, Minister, that I sent you a report back in October that Potter had met a number of fellow students in the Hog’s Head in Hogsmeade-”

“And what is your evidence for that?” Cut in Professor McGonagall.

“I have testimony from Willy Widdershins, Minerva, who happened to be in the bar at the time. He was heavily bandaged, it is true, but his hearing was quite unimpaired,” said Umbridge smugly. “He heard every word Potter said and hastened straight to the school to report to me-”

“Oh so that’s why he wasn’t prosecuted for setting up all those regurgitating toilets!” said Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows. “What an interesting insight into our justice system!”]

Harry mentally cheered at McGonagall, while the woman might continuously ignore him and his plight, she was steadfast in her beliefs and he had to respect that. She had also successfully distracted everyone for a little while longer as he scrambled for half-truths that didn’t make his chest hurt for when he was eventually pulled back into the conversation.

They argued further, Dumbledore jumping in to defend Harry just like at his trial. Not that the man ever actually looked at him. Everything devolved rather quickly, a screaming match between Dumbledore and Umbridge springing up as Harry slowly shuffled back until he was pressed against the door behind him.

“Dolores.” Fudge finally cut in. [“The meeting tonight – the one we know definitely happened-”

“Yes,” said Umbridge, pulling herself together, “yes… well, Miss Edgecombe tipped me off and I proceeded at once to the seventh floor, accompanied by certain trustworthy students, so as to catch those in the meeting red-handed. It appears they were forewarned of my arrival, however, because when we reached the seventh floor they were running in every direction. It does not matter, however. I have their names here, Miss Parkinson ran into the Room of Requirement for me to see if they had left anything behind. We needed evidence and the room provided.”]

The toad flourished the list of names that had been pinned up in the Room and handed it to Fudge.

[“The moment I saw Potter’s name on the list, I knew what we were dealing with,” She said softly.

“Excellent,” said Fudge, a smile spreading across his face, “excellent, Dolores. And… by thunder…” He looked up at Dumbledore. “See what they’ve named themselves?” said Fudge quietly. “Dumbledore’s Army.”

Dumbledore reached out and took the piece of parchment from Fudge. He gazed at the heading scribbled by Hermione months before and for a moment seemed unable to speak. Then he looked up, smiling.

“Well, the game is up,” he said simply. “Would you like a written confession from me Cornelius – or will a statement before these witnesses suffice?”]

[“Statement?” said Fudge slowly. “What – I don’t-?”

“Dumbledore’s Army, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore, still smiling as he waved the list of names before Fudge’s face. “Not Potter’s Army. Dumbledore’s Army.”

“But– But-”

Understanding blazed suddenly in Fudge’s face. He took a horrified step backwards, yelped and jumped out of the fire again.

“You?” He whispered, stamping again on his smouldering cloak.]

Harry watched, detached, as Dumbledore implicated himself, before vanishing and sending the Minister’s lackeys on a wild goose chase.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a second chapter for the day. I tried to make the changes in relationships between characters believable? 
> 
> Thanks for the comments guys, I do appreciate them and it is nice to hear my work is appreciated :)
> 
> Also, we are past the halfway mark for Part 1, this will be a six-part series.
> 
> Excerpts are taken from Harry Potter and the Order of the Pheonix as indicated.

* * *

The next morning, by Educational Decree Number Twenty-Eight had gone up, installing Umbridge as High Inquisitor, replacing Dumbledore. Harry watched with mild curiosity as the other students gossiped and assured themselves that Dumbledore would return, that the old man would rescue them all. He had to suppress his snort at that. He watched with morbid curiosity as Malfoy baited Ron into almost hexing him. Observed the distress of everyone at the Slytherins now being able to dock points. Harry couldn’t bring himself to care about something as stupid as house points. He did care about the Twins though. They had always stood quietly to the side, supporting him. When he tuned in properly, Fred was speaking.

[“Anyway… We’ve decided we don’t care about getting into trouble anymore.”

“Have you ever?” asked Hermione.

‘Yes’ Harry answered in his head.

“‘Course we have,” said George. “Never been expelled, have we?”

“We’ve always known where to draw the line.” Said Fred.

“We might have put a toe across it occasionally,” said George.

“But we’ve always stopped short of causing real mayhem,” said Fred.]

Harry couldn’t help the wave of misery that washed over him. The Twins were leaving. Of course they were leaving. They had the opportunity to leave with style, they had nothing to keep them at the school. While he may have cherished each act of kindness they had visited upon him, they had never indicated they felt the same for him. His heart sank as the Twins ushered them towards the Great Hall before disappearing down a corridor.

The next moment, he felt someone step into his space and turned to find Filch reaching out to grab his shoulder. Stepping back, he raised a brow.

“The Headmistress wants to see you, Potter” he leered.

Harry elected to say nothing, gesturing for the man to lead the way. His lack of verbal acknowledgement earned a glare as the caretaker shuffled off.

“Things are changing around here, Potter.” The caretaker continued. Harry only hummed in response, tuning out the man’s continued rant.

Eventually, Filch and Harry arrived at the Defence office and he had to suppress amusement at the knowledge that Umbridge was unable to access the Head’s office. He tried not to shudder at being surrounded by so much pink, again, and a pang of sadness at seeing his firebolt chained in the corner right next to the Twins brooms. He missed flying, it had been the only time he felt free. He sat as directed and waited. The toad offered him a drink and as she bustled around preparing the tea, he realised she was up to something. When she almost forced the beverage down his throat, he knew she was either trying to kill him or dose him with something.

Retreating into his Occlumency, he pretended to take a sip and as she began questioning him, he realised the tea was likely dosed with veritaserum and so, allowed his expression to blank and attempted to mimic the effects of the potion. He forced himself to take her questions as literally as possible. He didn’t know where Dumbledore was at this precise moment. Nor did he know where Sirius Black was, not that he could tell her as Grimmuld was still under the Fidelius.

She was deeply unhappy with his evasions and he couldn’t suppress a spark of bitter amusement. The woman didn’t even realise she had cursed him with the inability to tell lies. She didn’t need to dose him with anything to force the truth from his lips, she just had to ask the right question. He mentally noted her comments on their monitoring all communications. It wasn’t like Sirius or Remus had attempted to talk to him in a while. They were assumedly too busy with Order business to bother with him.

Suddenly their conversation was interrupted with a loud BOOM, shaking the very foundation of the castle. He took the opportunity to tip the remaining tea into the nearest vase, listening to the sounds of screaming and chaos from outside the room. Harry was quickly shoved out the door as Umbridge hurried off in the direction of the noise. With a shrug, he followed, discovering pandemonium one floor down. _Someone_ had set off an enormous crate of enchanted fireworks.

It was beautiful, colours and sparks mingling, whirling, twisting together. Animals comprised of fire and magic coiled through the corridor roaring and snarling. As he watched, they seemed to multiply, spreading out from the ignition site. One of the large Catherine wheels decided it needed more space, heading towards where Umbridge and Filch were standing, transfixed in horror. They both yelled in fright, throwing themselves to the ground to avoid being collected by the wayward firework.

He watched with amusement as Umbridge attempted numerous spells to try and stop or disable the fireworks. Every time they multiplied, movements becoming more frantic and violent. Soon, Filch had a broom and was trying to swat them, instead, it caught fire.

Turning away he ducked into a nearby hidden corridor only to come face to face with the Twins. Their laughter eased as Harry froze before them. He had no idea what to say anymore to them. They were leaving. With a twisted smile, Harry moved around the pair, shuffling into the darkness. He thought he heard one of them call out to him but knew he must have been imagining things.

The fireworks were insidious, spreading throughout the school over the afternoon. They disrupted all classes, not that the teachers minded. They seemed to take great pleasure in pretending helplessness, summoning Umbridge to clear away the fireworks. By the time classes finished for the day, the woman was dishevelled, soot-blackened and exhausted looking.

Gryffindor celebrated the Twins that night, Harry could only summon a weak smile for them, disappearing after dinner to Snape’s office. With his head bowed and shoulders hunched by his ears, Harry somehow found the courage to knock.

He opened the door after a terse ‘Enter’ issued through the wood. Slipping in, he closed the door behind himself and leant back, the coarse timber scratching against his palms.

“Yes, Potter?” He could see Snape was distracted, busy marking essays with bright red ink.

“If you have the time, could we perhaps duel?” Harry murmured into the quiet.

* * *

Severus set down his quill and leaned back in his chair to observe the youth in front of him. Harry had shrunken in on himself again. He could see something was wrong but was uncomfortable attempting to reach out. Severus wanted to comfort Potter but had little idea how. With a mental shrug, he figured the least he could do was give the youth what he asked for.

“Perhaps. I should probably finish my grading, but then again I believe I have had my fill of dunderheads for the evening.” With a smirk, the Potions Master rose, leading the way towards his rooms and the private duelling space he had connected. As they stepped into the room, stripping off their robes for ease of movement, a thought occurred to Severus.

“Potter?” The youth's eyes flicked up, waiting.

“Have you had any experience with hand to hand fighting?” A flash of pain raced across Harry's face before he shook his head.

“It is something most pure-blood wizards don't bother with, as such, it is an excellent skill I have cultivated. Would you consider sparring with me tonight instead of duelling?” He could see uncertainty war with trust on Potters face. Eventually, the youth swallowed and nodded.

Moving closer, Severus spoke softly, “Do not worry, I will show you the forms to follow, trust me and I will lead you.”

Fine tremors skidded over Harry's body, limbs lose as he stood quietly before Severus. Closing his eyes, he thought over the basic forms and shifted his stance into the first. He quirked an eyebrow and Potter moved to mirror him. Casting a discerning eye over the youth’s stance, he moved around to adjust the positioning.

This went on until they made it through the first set and Severus felt Potter had grasped the basics. Returning to stand in front of the youth, Severus took up the first position again and when Potter mirrored him, Severus stepped into his space until their arms connected, forcing them to shift into the second form.

On they went through the forms, repeating the patterns until it was as natural as breathing. Their bodies flowed together, sweat causing their shirts to cling, the white of Harry's turning transparent. He couldn't help but observe the clean lines of the youth's muscles, the flush rising in his cheeks, the soft fire in green eyes.

Eventually, he called for time, disappearing into the kitchen to retrieve a jug of iced water and two glasses. Returning, he found Potter sprawled out on the floor, shirt stripped away from sweaty skin. He froze, eyes raking over pale flesh greedily before he realised what he was doing.

_Harry was underage_. He mentally chanted. _So very underage_.

Moving closer, he realised the youth had fallen asleep, whatever had been bothering him, followed by their intense physical exercise session had obviously tired him out. With an amused huff, he stooped down to scoop up Harry in his arms, the weight comforting. Without thought, he walked to his room and was soon depositing the youth in his bed, spelling him clean with a gentle cleansing charm and tucking the blankets up under his chin. Harry immediately rolled onto his side, cuddling into the pillows and sighing in his sleep. Stepping back, Severus couldn’t help but realise too late what a terrible idea this was. Exasperated by his own bizarre behaviour, he turned to head back to his office, collecting up the essays he was grading and moving back into his loungeroom where he could set himself up to mark by the fire.

* * *

He really needed to stop waking up in strange beds, Harry mused to himself. It was dark around him; the bedding was luxuriously soft and warm. A familiar scent wrapped around him, masculine and musky; it took a few minutes for him to place it. Snape. With a sigh, he sat up, realising he was wearing only his trousers; his shirt and socks missing. An embarrassed flush filled his cheeks at the thought of Snape seeing him like this. He was still too thin, littered with silvery scars. Only on bad days now, could you count his ribs, and they had been growing fewer. Harry was ashamed, Severus had put so much effort into trying to get him healthy, and here he was throwing it away.

Shuffling out of the room, arms wrapped around himself he found Snape sitting by the fire, marking again, a tea tray on the side table.

“Sorry for falling asleep.” He mumbled, hesitating in the doorway.

Dark eyes flicked up, a peremptory gesture directed him to the other wingback by the fire where Harry’s clothes were folded neatly. Hurrying over, he quickly wrapped himself in layers, breathing normally again now that his horrifically scarred body was covered.

“You were tired, we should have stopped earlier. Apologies, a good teacher does not work their student to exhaustion.” The quill continued moving across the parchment and Harry sank down into the chair. He noticed a spare teacup on the tray so began fixing a cup for himself.

“Of course.” Harry murmured, gut twisting. He cast around for something to say, then remembered the odd meeting with Umbridge.

“So I think Umbridge tried to dose me with something-probably a truth serum-today.”

Severus finally set down the quill, picking up his cup and raising an eyebrow at Harry. “Veritaserum, most assuredly. The woman has been forcing me to give up my meagre stockpile, insisting I make more. She does not seem to realise how difficult a potion it is to make. Irrespective, the only thing it would have done was remove your option for silence, it’s not like you can lie anyway.” The other man smirked and Harry couldn’t help flushing.

“I knew something was up, she was behaving weird. I figured there was a chance she was trying to kill me so I didn’t drink it anyway.”

Severus snorted, and Harry couldn’t help but grin back. He loved making the older man laugh; all the worry and stress of living as a spy, forced into a job he hated fell away in those few moments and Harry could see the man he would have been without the war. Something in his chest fluttered at the glitter of amusement in those dark eyes.

“A wise decision. I can teach you a spell, it is wandless and wordless, so very difficult, which is ideal in that sort of situation. It banishes mouthfuls of a contaminated substance.”

Harry nodded eagerly and as silence settled, his gaze drifted to the fire again.

“Was there something else bothering you?” Harry’s eyes snapped around at the soft tone. “You seemed… Distressed earlier. Was it only Umbridge, or was there something else?”

Harry shrugged, unsure how to explain the tangle of emotion that he had connected with the Twins leaving. He caught Severus frowning at him and sighed.

“The Twins. They told me they were not expecting to finish out the year. I knew they were leaving Hogwarts after their NEWT’s, they would be graduating, but… I thought I would still have more time with them here.” He trailed off, eyes drifting back to the fire, words tripping out. “The Twins have always been good to me, kind. I don’t get much kindness. Anyway, they told me today that they expect to be expelled before the end of the year. It’s selfish really, wanting them to stay when they are so obviously unhappy. I gave them the start-up money for their company you see. So they don’t need to stay, they can go and begin their lives doing what they want and I’ll be here…” Harry trailed off.

The silence stretched. Eventually, Harry set down his teacup, thanked the Potions Master for their session and allowing him the use of the bed and left. It was after curfew, but he was very practiced on getting back to the Tower without being seen.

* * *

Soon enough, the Easter holidays were upon them, tension had been slowly wrapping around the school, the fifth and seventh years already verging on frantic with the sheer quantity of revision that the Professors were piling on.

One day, pamphlets appeared throughout the common room, detailing all the different careers available and what they would have to do to be eligible for them. Harry pretended to participate, but he knew, deep down, there was little point in contemplating a future that most likely wouldn’t exist.

Ron seemed to assume Harry would join him in the Auror Corps. Granted, Harry would soon be singularly suited for the job, but his skin crawled at the thought of devoting his life to hunting down criminals and dark wizards.

He was interested in the cursebreaking pamphlet from Gringotts, but he hadn’t taken Arithmancy so would not be able to apply. Shoving aside the thought of his non-existent future, he couldn’t help the sense of misery that cropped up when he spotted the Twins huddled together in a corner, obviously planning.

“Harry!” Hermione’s sharp tone cut through his grey thoughts.

“Yes, Hermione?”

She threw an exasperated look at him. “I have been trying to tell you, that you have a meeting with McGonagall on Monday at half two.”

“Divination. Alright, thanks.” Harry nodded, gaze drifting back to the pamphlet on cursebreaking.

“Really Harry.” Hermione huffed loudly. “I don’t know what has gotten into you lately.”

“Perhaps he needs a good snog.” Ron waggled his eyebrows from behind the Auror pamphlet.

Hermione choked and Harry only hummed in response, watching the Twins as they argued over a piece of paper.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this, is the beginning of the end ;) I hope you all enjoy it!! Thanks for the comments guys.
> 
> Excerpts are taken from Harry Potter and the Order of the Pheonix as indicated throughout the chapter.

* * *

His career’s advice session did not go well. Umbridge was present, her running commentary from the corner making it difficult for Harry to concentrate. When he admitted to McGonagall that he had been interested in the cursebreaking pamphlet but knew it wouldn’t work as he hadn’t taken Arithmancy, the woman frowned. Shuffling some papers, she suggested that next year, he could drop his two electives, Care of Magical Creatures and Divination. Instead, he could take up Arithmancy and Ancient Runes instead. He would be able to join the OWL class and then would only need to take tutoring for NEWT’s once he left school.

She strongly recommended he take Ancient Runes as while it was not a requirement, it was looked upon favourably by Gringotts. She recommended that he make a decision before the end of the school year so that she could assist him in obtaining the necessary materials for him to study over the summer. They did offer an accelerated program for those who showed an aptitude and if he applied himself, he might be able to sit his NEWT’s with the other students.

Umbridge’s snort from the corner was not encouraging. The woman seemed to delight in reminding him of his current failing grade in Defence Against the Dark Arts. He had tried to keep his head down and stop antagonising the woman, but he was her favourite punching bag.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever stop being fate’s whipping boy.

Umbridge seemed to take savage pleasure in trying to make him miserable during their afternoon class of Defence. He Occluded and attempted to ignore her, much to her growing irritation. As they were leaving the classroom, ready to head back to the common rooms before dinner, an explosion rocked the castle once more.

The toad came pelting out of the classroom, stubby legs working furiously. The witch extracted her wand and waddled off in the direction of the noise; it sounded like the east wing. Following the masses, they found that a swamp had appeared in one of the corridors, students nearby covered in what appeared to be stinksap and grinning widely.

The Twins stood, unashamed, in front of it all as Umbridge berated them. He watched as the woman paused in her tirade to murmur something to Filch, who hurried off looking gleeful. Using the opportunity, the Twins disappeared into a nearby corridor with a puff of smoke before Umbridge noticed. Upon seeing her quarry had vanished, the toad screeched at her Inquisitorial Squad, demanding they find the Twins for punishment.

They scattered, but no one went to the hidden passage, which Harry knew lead to the entrance hall. Turning he made his way there, slowly collecting students as he went. He stood on the steps, watching the Twins where they were framed in the massive doors. Sadness welled up in him. They were leaving. Of course they were leaving, there was nothing keeping them here anymore. He cursed himself for giving them the money at the end of last year but he had wanted to make them happy.

Eventually, Umbridge and her squad caught up with them. Their hair flamed in the setting sun as Umbridge screeched at them some more, promising punishment and pain. The twins laughed, summoning their brooms, they bid the school adieu, and left.

Everyone leaves in the end.

* * *

The story of the Twin’s flight was retold so often, Harry saw no other solution but to retreat to the empty once more. The joy and amusement the school body found in their antics was a lance through him. How could he be happy when the best friends he had ever had, left without a word. He was alone once more. Snape tolerated him, teaching everything he could but maintaining a cool distance. No more did Harry receive kind touches or anything like affection. Hermione lost herself in revision and Ron only wanted to complain about how annoying Hermione was being and how difficult it was playing Quidditch without Harry.

Umbridge and Filch could not figure out how to remove the swamp left by the Twins on the fifth floor of the east wing. Flitwick or McGonagall could probably remove the thing, but they seemed to take savage pleasure in letting Umbridge struggle on alone. Harry began to pity the woman. She had brought it all on herself, granted, but there was something deeply pathetic about it all now.

Inspired by the Twins, students began competing for how much chaos they could cause. The school rebelled against the woman; the dam had been broken. Someone slipped a niffler into Umbridge’s office. The corridors were filled with the stench of Dungbombs and Stink Pellets to the point where everyone needed a Bubble-Head Charm to get around. Odd things kept happening to the Inquisitorial Squad as well, much to everyone’s mutual satisfaction.

The Twins had apparently managed to sell off their entire stockpile of Skiving Snackboxes and Umbridge could not figure out why her classes kept being interrupted by bleeding, swooning, sweating, vomiting students. Four separate classes received detention, but the woman still could not discover the source. Eventually, she conceded and allowed the students to leave in droves.

Peeves rose to the occasion beautifully, wreaking havoc and destruction throughout the castle. Classes were disrupted, Mrs Norris was tormented, anything that could be destroyed or damaged, was.

During Charms, they were trying to convince their teacups to tap-dance across the table. Harry only listened with half an ear as Ron and Hermione bickered about everything and nothing. Suddenly, something caught his attention.

[“I’ve been wondering whether Mundungus has persuaded them to sell stolen goods or something awful.”

“He hasn’t.” said Harry curtly.

“How do you know?” said Ron and Hermione together.

“Because-” Harry hesitated, but the moment to confess seemed to have finally come. There was no good to be gained in keeping silent if it meant anyone suspected that Fred and George were criminals. “Because they got the gold from me. I gave them my Triwizard winnings last June.”]

Of course, Hermione dissolved into hysteria, and Ron was gleeful that the Twins leaving wasn’t his fault. Because that logic tracked somehow. He went back to charming his white and blue teacup, ignoring the pair once more. He ignored Hermione’s nagging about doing something so irresponsible as giving the Twins so much money. Clearly the witch didn’t get it. He didn’t want blood money. He would rather be destitute and homeless than have the money that should have been Cedrics’. Instead, it meant that the Twins could bring a little joy into the bleak world. Anyway, it was too late. It had been done, the Twins had used the money, and now they were gone.

* * *

Exams crept closer still, they were only a month away and it was becoming more difficult to make time for his sessions with Snape. Duelling and sparring were put on hold, instead, Harry would use what time he could revising and studying. Snape was an excellent tutor when Harry found the courage to ask for assistance. Mostly though, he just enjoyed the quiet afforded to him by studying in a hidden corner of Snape’s office.

[The final match of the Quidditch season, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, was to take place on the last weekend of May. Although Slytherin had been narrowly defeated by Hufflepuff in their last match, Gryffindor was not daring to hope for victory, due mainly (though of course, nobody said it to him) to Ron’s abysmal goalkeeping record.]

Somehow Ron looked past this and was cheerful the morning of the match, convinced it couldn’t get any worse. Harry flinched at that. Things could always get worse. He followed the crowd down to the pitch, settling next to Hermione and watching as the match devolved into disaster and heckling for Gryffindor. The Slytherins were ruthless in their mockery of Ron and if Harry hadn’t felt so numb, he might have mustered some amusement at it all. It was just a stupid quidditch match, there would be another house cup next year and every year after.

The next minute Hagrid was almost physically dragging them off into the forest. The half-giant looked battered and bruised, a woebegone expression lingering around his blackened eyes. They were led deep into the forest, Hermione keeping up distracted chatter with the Games Keeper while Harry observed their surroundings. His Herbology had improved, he could now pick out magical plants and could mentally list their uses in Potions. Some part of him was proud at the idea of passing his OWL’s, another part scoffed at his delusions.

[It was a great struggle to keep up with Hagrid, what with branches and thickets of thorn through which Hagrid marched as easily as if they were cobwebs, but which snagged Harry and Hermione’s robes, frequently entangling them so severely that they had to stop for minutes at a time to free themselves. Harry’s arms and legs were soon covered in small cuts and scratches. They were so deep in the Forest now that sometimes all Harry could see of Hagrid in the gloom was a massive dark shape ahead of him. Any sound seemed threatening in the muffled silence. The breaking of a twig echoed loudly and the tiniest rustle of movement, even though it might have been made by an innocent sparrow, caused Harry to peer through the gloom for a culprit. It occurred to him that he had never managed to get this far into the Forest without meeting some kind of creature; their absence struck him as rather ominous.]

Harry and Hermione shared a look, lighting their wands as they continued moving to where Hagrid had stopped. The half-giant began a rambling explanation on how he expected to be dismissed any day now, how he didn’t mind so much as it would free him up to do Order business. When he asked for their assistance, Hermione readily agreed though Harry had a sinking feeling this was not going to end well.

It was a giant. 

Hagrid had brought a giant and secreted him away in the Forbidden Forest. It was his half-brother, who had apparently not wanted to come but Hagrid had stolen him away anyway. Harry watched Hagrid and Hermione have a half-hysterical conversation. Hagrid was clearly in denial. 

Again. 

Somehow, they were roped into once weekly visits, just to keep _Grawp_ company.

As they headed back to the castle, the three of them had an interesting confrontation with the centaurs. Harry did not see how they would be able to visit Grawp when they so readily threatened Hagrid. He couldn’t see how them being students would get them through a second confrontation.

* * *

Gryffindor won the match and the cup. Ron was jubilant. They agreed not to say anything about Grawp until later.

The next day, Ron was relentless, reliving the match over and over and over again until their jaunt into the Forbidden Forest felt less real than the match they had never seen. Neither was particularly keen to kill Ron’s good mood, so allowed their attempts to tell him about Grawp be brushed aside.

They had settled under the beech tree by the lake, attempting to revise while Ron ran over the match, again. Eventually, it became apparent that they had not seen the match and Hermione was forced to level with the red-head. Ron’s hurt from them not seeing the match soon faded into horror as Hermione and Harry shared their story on what was waiting for them in the forest. Denial immediately set in.

They all agreed Hagrid was insane and all held out hope that Hagrid would survive the remaining weeks of the school term so that they would not have to follow through on their promise to visit the giant.

Homework was no longer set, instead, their classes were devoted to revision. His sessions with Snape continued unabated, duelling and sparring reinstated so that Harry would have a physical outlet for the stress he was under. A thick fog of fear and desperation descended over the fifth years. Harry allowed himself to be swept up in it, forgetting for a time that his death remained on the horizon. Forgetting that he had been abandoned at one point or another by everyone who had ever cared about him. He even tried to forget how much he missed the small acts of kindness that Snape used to visit upon him.

Harry felt desperately lonely during the night; while lying in bed with nothing but his thoughts and the grey fog around his mind for company. Riddle was running out of time to attack him this year. With the absence of visions, the year had passed quietly, for the most part. The emotional turmoil had been difficult to bear, but nothing had actually happened since the first Occlumency lesson with Snape. He felt like he was holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Their next Transfiguration class provided the fifth year Gryffindor’s with their exam timetable and dire warnings should anyone attempt to cheat. The revision kicked up a notch with students trying anything and everything to retain information. After being smacked on the nose by Hermione and one of her textbooks, Harry fled to the peace of the dungeons.

Snape didn’t even ask when Harry crept in and tucked himself away in a hidden corner of the office so that should another student enter, he wouldn’t be seen. It was still unsafe for anyone to think they got along. At least with all the stress of exams, he had something else to focus on when Snape was forced to throw his customary barbs at Harry during Potions. He could still feel his brain logging each one, he knew they would all come tumbling out during the summer, assuming he lived that long.

* * *

When the examiners arrived, Hermione flew into a tizzy and with a sigh, Harry followed along obediently to get a closer look. Though why they wanted one of a bunch of old wizards and witches he had no idea but nonetheless, he continued. The evening in Gryffindor tower was tense and uncomfortable. Everyone tried to revise without much success. Abandoning his textbooks, Harry went to bed, lying awake and counting the holes in the bed canopy.

Sleep came, followed swiftly by morning. The fifth years poked disconsolately at their breakfasts then milled around with the seventh years, waiting for instructions. Soon they were ushered back into the Great Hall, the four house tables replaced with numerous single person chair and table sets.

And so, their exams began with the scratching of quills and the heavy breathing of the panicked. Their mornings were filled with theory exams, while their practicals were in the afternoons. Charms was up first, followed by Transfiguration, Herbology, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Ancient Runes for Hermione. They had a weekend break which included someone setting another niffler on Umbridge’s office. The next week kicked off with Potions, followed by Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy, and Divination (which was, of course, an unmitigated disaster).

Unfortunately, during the Astronomy practical the evening of their Divination exam, they bore witness to the forcible removal of Hagrid from the school grounds. First Fang was stunned, then they watched in horror as McGonagall ran to Hagrid’s defence and was taken down by no less than four stunners to the chest. Even the examiners stopped trying to chivvy them back to their papers at that point. Hagrid lost it, lashing out at his attackers and shouting.

Hagrid collected Fang, tossing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and fled. Umbridge screeching all the while, demanding Hagrid’s capture to no avail. The exam finished quickly and all of the students roughly stowed their belongings before hurrying down the stairs. Everyone began heading to their own common rooms, still discussing the scene. The Gryffindors settled in for the evening by the fire, arguing, dissecting and discussing Umbridge’s move to oust Hagrid.

Their final exam was for History of Magic and was slated for Friday afternoon. Morning drifted by slowly until they all settled into the warm, sunny Great Hall for their 2 pm exam. Harry set to, jotting down what details he could, not that History had ever been his favourite subject, but with work, he had improved over the past six months.

He worked his way through the paper at a steady pace but when he went back to review his answers, the warm sun on his neck began to get to him and his mind drifted. Trying to force himself to focus, he didn’t notice his Occlumency shield slipping until it was too late.

He didn’t notice his head thunk onto the desk, lost in the vision thrust into his mind. The plain black door from his dreams earlier that year swung open. He was in a circular room with many black doors, one of which swung open, inviting him in. He had no control, was tugged forward into a room with dancing lights and mechanical clicking. He was towed along, through a third door where he found himself in a cathedral-sized room full of shelves covered in glass spheres.

Screaming in his mind, Harry was dragged along to row ninety-seven where a dark lump was on the ground between the shelves. Voldemort’s voice issued from his mouth and Harry watched, horrified, as he cursed the form on the floor. The figure writhed and all too soon, Harry realised it was Sirius.

Swallowing down his fear and panic, Harry centred himself, seeking the nothing, trying to strip away the illusions and lies.

The corridor was empty.

Riddle did not have his Godfather. Though Harry now knew what he was after as the vision focused on one particular orb.

Harry jerked out of the vision, sitting up and looking around frantically. No one had reacted, so assumedly he had not made any noise. The examiner did give him a funny look though, so Harry turned back to his paper, heart pounding. Not soon enough, time was called and in the chaos that ensued, he slipped away, sneaking to the dungeons and hiding in Snape’s empty office. The man would be back at some point today and they could discuss their next step then.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all appreciate the special moment ;)
> 
> Also, sorry for the cliffy ;)

* * *

Severus felt the wards on his office trigger, knowing that Potter was the only one he had granted access without him present. As the weeks had crept by, the youth had taken to hiding out in the quiet of his dungeon office and Severus couldn’t bring himself to deny him. Watching as the last of the third-year students trickled from the room, he strode from the Potions classroom and down the hall.

Closing the door softly behind himself and casting a locking and silencing charm on it for good measure, he examined the space before moving to the hidden alcove Potter usually sat in. The teen was huddled in his chair, staring into space. His heart twanged to see the boy who had been growing confident made so small.

Severus softened his tone. “Harry?”

Green eyes filled with fear and pain looked up at him finally. “It’s time?”

The youth nodded mutely.

“Tell me what happened?”

There was a long silence as Potter found his voice.

“I was in my History of Magic exam; I had finished the paper and was going back through it again. The room was so warm and sunny, and I was having so much trouble focusing. I didn’t even realise until it was too late that I had stopped Occluding and before I knew it, Riddle was sending me a vision. He was torturing Sirius in the Department of Mysteries, I think. Anyway, I remained calm like you taught me and checked to see whether there was truth in the vision. While the room filled with glowing orbs was real, Sirius being tortured was not.”

Severus froze, his options were limited, they didn’t have much time to work with. It would be expected that Potter would rush off to rescue his Godfather.

“In the Department of Mysteries, there is a Hall of Prophecy which holds all true Prophecies spoken. There is one speaking of you and the Dark Lord, it speaks of his downfall. If we make it through this, I promise to tell you the story of how I came to know about it. At this stage, it will only act as a distraction. We need to act on this though, you will be expected to rush in, frantic to save your Godfather.” His heart twisted at the omission but Severus could see understanding in Potter’s eyes.

“The easiest method will be if you take your cloak and go to the Three Broomsticks, from there you can floo to the Leaky Cauldron. If you step out into the muggle world, turn left and walk two blocks until you see an old-fashioned red telephone box, you will have found the visitors’ entrance to the Ministry. Follow the instructions and take the lifts down to level nine where the Department is.

“If the Dark Lord has sent his minions there to meet you, the Ministry will probably be deserted. If you can, get in, get the prophecy, then lead whoever is there back to the Atrium. You want to have any confrontation where everyone can see.”

It was the best plan they had with such little time to prepare. Severus wished he could go, but if Potter failed, Severus would need to maintain his position. What he would do though, was notify the Order once Potter had left so that he would not be alone for long.

* * *

Harry hesitated. He should leave, the plan Snape had offered was a good one, the collateral damage would be minimal, the risk only to Harry. He should be rushing out to get his cloak, but still, he remained stuck.

Harry was walking to his death, he knew it, Snape had to know it too. He screwed up what little courage he had. If he was going to die, he wanted one last moment of kindness, from someone he cared deeply for, to take with him.

“Severus?” Harry cringed at the waver in his voice but relished the taste of the name on his tongue. Snape didn’t comment, only waited patiently.

He couldn’t find the words to ask for what he desperately wanted, instead he stood, shuffling into Snape’s personal space. The man continued to watch him, dark eyes were curious, cautious. Fisting his hands in the front of the Potion Master’s robes, he levered himself up until he could press his lips to the older man’s. For one agonising moment, nothing happened, as Harry moved to step away and flee, strong arms encircled him, holding him close.

Harry revelled in the warmth, the comfort of being so wrapped in the other man, of being held like he was precious, like he mattered. The kiss was chaste, soft, absolutely perfect. Too soon, the arms relaxed, releasing him. Harry buried his face in Severus’ chest until his breathing evened out.

“Thank you. I wanted to know, before… Thank you for showing me what it was like.”

He felt long fingers card through his hair, tugging until he looked up. Black eyes gazed down at him; expression unreadable.

“Harry…” The man trailed off, swallowed. “Come back, come back to me and we can talk.”

“I’ll try.”

With that, Harry extracted himself and left. Sneaking back to the tower, he avoided everyone, grabbing his cloak and disappearing. It was only too easy, in the chaos of final exams, to slip out of the school, down the front drive, through the gates and along the path to Hogsmeade.

He settled back into his Occlumency meditation, forcing himself to put aside the tangle that was his feelings for the Potions Master. He had no idea why the man had obliged him, but it had been enough. If he had to die, at least he could die in the knowledge he had kissed the man he had grown to care for. He wasn’t sure if it was love, wasn’t even sure he was capable of love but that moment of kindness he could hold in his heart until the end.

* * *

Stepping into the lift in the Ministry, he pressed 9 and held on as the lift rattled along. The place was empty, not a soul had been there, not to check his wand or to ask what he was doing. The silence was eerie. Still shrouded in his cloak and numerous spells, he made his way out of the lift and through the level until he found the plain black door that was the entrance to the Department of Mysteries.

Stepping over the threshold, the door clicked shut behind him, plunging him into darkness. Seconds later, the torches in-between each of the dozen or so doors flared to life. Just as he was about to walk towards one of the doors, the walls shifted and spun. Eventually, the rumbling stopped.

Easing open the next door, he peered in. No glittering shimmering lights. Just as he was about to close the door, he had a thought. Remembering the spell Riddle had used when he wrote his name in second year, Harry marked an X on the door before it clicked shut. As soon as it did, the walls spun again.

The next door opened to a chamber with an archway and a curiously swaying veil. He felt fingers brush against his Occlumency shield and quickly marked the door and closed it. The next he tried refused to open no matter what he did. Instead of marking it with an X, he marked it with an L for locked so that he would know he hadn’t entered that one.

The next door he tried was the right one, the glittering shimmering lights beckoned him forwards. Cautiously, he made his way through the tables and shelves and bookcases full of all types of timekeeping devices. Just behind a curious bell jar with a bird in it was the door. Easing it open, he made his way inside. The Hall of Prophecy was filled with dusty shelves covered in orbs of varying sizes. Glancing at a little plaque on the end of the nearest shelf, he saw it marked row fifty-three.

Moving to the next he could see the numbers were increasing so continued heading in that direction. It was quiet in the room, not even sound came from the flickering torches. In no time at all he reached row ninety-seven and began slowly making his way along, running a disillusioned finger across the plates to clear the dust off until he came to one that read:

_S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D._

_Dark Lord_

_And (?) Harry Potter_

He hesitated for only a moment, wrapping the memory of the soft kiss he had received earlier around his courage before plucking the orb and beginning to make his way back out of the room. He could see shadows shifting in different corridors between the shelves but, moving silently, still covered in his cloak and numerous charms, he made his way back to the time room.

Easing the main door open, he was grateful to see that the room was empty, marking the door, it clicked shut behind him and the room spun once more. As he went back to testing doors to try and find an exit, he marked off another four until he finally stumbled upon the door he had come in through.

Peering out, he exhaled in relief when it was empty. Slipping out, he made his way back to the atrium without hassle, much to his growing surprise.

* * *

After Potter had left, Severus knew he would not be summoned, could not be if he was expected to maintain his spy position in either Dumbledore or the Dark Lords eyes. He had notified the order and his duty was done.

His mind kept running over and over his final moments with the youth. The sound of his name crossing those lips. The tender press of soft skin. The feel of a warm body crushed against his own.

He could see the desperation, fear and hope in those wide green eyes. His heart hurt, gut churned, at the thought of sending Potter off alone to face Merlin knew what.

Glancing at the clock, he gave an exasperated huff. He had been pacing for half an hour thinking over Potter. He was officially losing his mind. Striding into his quarters, he retrieved a bottle of Dreamless Sleep and took a half dose. It would be better to sleep through the night and wake refreshed in the morning.

* * *

He had to get rid of the prophecy, if Riddle got his hands on it, they would be in trouble, but he wanted to know what it said. Looking around, he spotted a bathroom and walked in. Locking the door behind himself, he checked to make sure it was empty before getting into a cubicle and silencing the little space.

Pulling out the orb, he felt the compulsion to crush it. Often his instincts helped guide him, so with a shrug, he threw it at the ground. The next moment, a misty voice issued:

_“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..._

_Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies..._

_and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not..._

_and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives..._

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...”_

With a sigh, Harry slumped against the cubicle wall. Well. It was no more, no less than he expected. At least now he knew.

Leaving the cubicle, he splashed some cold water on his face and looked up, only to realise he was still disillusioned. Snorting in bitter amusement, he exited the bathroom and looked around, the atrium was still empty.

Taking Snape’s advice, Harry decided to settle down by the fountain of magical brethren to wait. If nothing happened in the next hour, he would head back to Hogwarts.

He had been waiting for half an hour when he saw Lucius Malfoy stride through the atrium, looking self-important. While interesting, the man alone was not enough to warrant his movement. Ten minutes later, the blonde came storming back into the atrium with a small hoard of black cloaked people behind him.

At that same moment, the Order of the Phoenix floo’ed in. Bellatrix, the crazy bitch she was, immediately threw back her hood and began duelling Kingsley.

They were outnumbered, two to one, but the Order was holding their own. Sirius and Remus worked as a seamless team, first taking down one, then two, then three Death Eaters in quick succession. Moody had put down two on his own. Kingsley was holding up against Bellatrix and Harry noticed Lucius try to slip away and made his way over. Reaching out, he grasped the blonde’s wand hand and leaned close to his ear.

“Summon your master. I have what he wants, but he won’t get it unless he comes to face me himself.” Harry immediately retreated, crouching down so that when Lucius lashed out, the spell went over his head. Shuffling behind a nearby post, he watched as the older man tried to figure out where he was.

Glancing back at the fight, he could see Tonks had finally taken one Death Eater down and was working on her second, Sirius and Remus had managed to take down another pair while Moody had put down another as well.

Spellfire flashed and sparked through the atrium, missed spells chipping away at the floors and walls. Debris were scattered everywhere creating tripping hazards for the duelling witches and wizards.

Kingsley was still fighting Bellatrix and Moody had gone to assist while a bleeding Sirius and Remus were ensuring that the downed Death Eaters were disarmed and bound for incarceration. Once they were done, Remus immediately ushered Sirius into a fireplace, sending him back to Grimmauld and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. But it was too soon as Bellatrix cackled, striking down Moody.

The next minute, Riddle appeared in a flurry of robes. Pain scratched at the outside of his Occlumency shields, but, used to ignoring pain, he shoved it in a box and forgot about it. Bellatrix and the last Death Eater fighting Tonks were so distracted by the arrival of their master, they were dispatched with ease. Riddle roared in displeasure, lashing out with Crucio’s at the remaining Order members. Lucius had already fled after summoning the Dark Lord.

Exhaling, Harry stripped away the enchantments he was under and tucked away his cloak. Mentally, he wrapped his memory of Snape holding him around his heart for fortification. Stepping out into the middle of the space he took a breath.

“Hey Riddle!” He taunted. “Nice to see you come when called. Apparently, your Death Eaters learnt obedience from you, not for you.”

With a snarl of rage, the serpent-like man whirled around, immediately casting a Crucio at him. Harry dodged and the duel was on. Back and forth they cast, Harry holding his own as Riddle grew more and more enraged. Training with Snape had done wonders for his duelling abilities, he was faster, more precise, agile in a way he never had been before. He didn't only have luck to survive on now.

At some point, people began gathering around the edges of the room, watching with horror as irrefutable proof of the Dark Lord's return was granted to them. Dumbledore arrived but had the good sense to not interfere.

Screaming his anger out, Riddle dissolved into smoke and threw himself at Harry, forcing his way in through his scar.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On one hand, you guys get another kiss, on the other, this will be it for a while ;) Sorry guys!!

* * *

Pain, breathtaking pain wrapped around him, penetrating every inch of him, tearing into his mind. Immediately, Harry tried to lock down his Occlumency shields but only managed to trap himself inside his mind with Riddle. At least the pain was on the outside. He could feel something break away, shifting to join Riddle. Somehow, he felt lighter for it. Shaking off the odd sensation, Harry focused instead on the Dark Lord that had invaded his mind.

“Riddle. Nice of you to make it, I was starting to think you had forgotten me.” Harry smirked, creating a sitting room for them to talk in.

Unconsciously, it was remarkably similar to the lounge room in Snape’s quarters, down to the wing back chairs and the fireplace. Settling down into a chair, he watched as Riddle paced by the fire.

“You insolent brat! How dare you think you can defeat me; think you can summon me! You live by my mercy and you will die!” He hissed.

Harry couldn't resist laughing. “You came when I called, didn't you? And I've survived this long, why would I stop now?”

Harry tuned out as Riddle continued to rant and rave. He needed to end the man, end the fight soon, but the question was how. The longer this dragged out, the more likely he was to fail. His mother’s blood sacrifice had been negated by Riddle’s resurrection ritual, he wasn't convinced he could cast an unforgivable, but perhaps one of the darker curses Snape had shown him would suffice? Perhaps he should improvise… Luck had always been on his side, he hadn't needed much so far. It would be a gamble but if he failed, no harm no foul really.

Riddle continued to pace and rant. Harry exhaled, once again thinking of the kiss he had shared with Snape. _Severus_, his mind whispered, and he wished, for a moment, that he could taste the name on his lips once more, but it was too risky with Riddle in his head. Calmly, he pointed his wand at the other man and focused all of his energy. He wrapped up every kind moment, every sweet memory he had; filled himself with everything that was good in his life. Harry slashed his wand down and mentally screamed;

_sectumsempra spiritus_!

A screeching wailing filled the air as the spirit of Riddle writhed in pain. Slashes appeared across the manifestation in his mind. Six cracks of white light showed through and the next moment, the Dark Lord known as Voldemort screamed and shattered, all the pieces of his spirit severed from life forever.

* * *

With a groan, Harry came to, lying on the cold hard floor in the middle of the atrium. Everything hurt, from the roots of his hair to his toes, he ached down to his soul. Just the thought of moving made him want to moan in agony. Apparently destroying the shade possessing you through mental magic was not a good idea. He could feel his fingernails for Merlin's sake; he wished he wasn't this familiar with pain.

Cataloguing his body, he could tell nothing was broken or fractured. Some deep bruises were blooming scattered over his body and a sticky patch on his chest and thigh suggested at some point during the duel with Riddle he had been clipped with a couple of cutting curses.

Turning his attention outward, he could hear raised voices in the background but little registered beyond the fact that he was alone.

Again, still, whatever.

With a sigh, he looked towards the raised voices and spotted Dumbledore with his order standing in a line about 10 feet away. Their bodies acted as a shield of sorts; he could see a crowd of people beyond them but no one had seemed to notice him lying on the floor.

Just as he moved to try and get up, Remus glanced over and saw he was conscious, with a murmured word to Kingsley next to him, he hurried over to Harry. Kneeling down next to him, the werewolf reached out to brush the fringe from his face and Harry couldn't help but flinch away. When he was in pain, contact inevitably hurt more. Remus blinked, withdrawing his hand and reaching for his wand instead to begin casting diagnostics on him.

“Physically you're fine.” He announced eventually; eyes oddly hazy. “Some magical exhaustion, but other than that you will be alright.” Amber eyes darted up to check on Dumbledore who sounded like he was wrapping up his conversation with the ministry.

“Dumbledore!” Fudge’s voice rang out. “You will tell me what happened!”

“In a moment Fudge, I must tie up some loose ends before we can discuss this further.” Dumbledore replied genially. He turned and Kingsley moved to fill the gap, preventing anyone from seeing what was behind them.

Plucking a lolly wrapper from his pocket, the Headmaster aimed his wand and chanted _portus_. Taking Harry’s hand he pressed it into his palm.

“Harry my boy,” The man sounded as genial as ever. “Time to get you back to Hogwarts I believe.”

Immediately, he felt a tugging behind his navel as Harry was whisked away. Remus and Dumbledore already turning back to the crowd who hadn’t even known he was there.

* * *

Harry was roughly deposited onto the rug in front of the Headmasters fireplace. With a groan, he struggled upright, dropping the wrapper. Testing his legs, he found them weak but stable. Tugging out the cloak which had still been in his pocket, he wrapped it tightly around his body. He felt cold and achy. Moving to push his fringe out of his eyes, it yanked painfully on his scar, his fingers came away tacky with half-dried blood.

Limping towards the door, he tugged at the knob. The door didn’t give. With a sigh, he began casting unlocking charms until something finally clicked. Pulling the door open at last, he made his way down the stairs, squeezing past the gargoyle.

Stumbling along in a haze of exhaustion, he was only half paying attention to where he was going. Moving past a window, he could see that false dawn was breaking over the forest. Without being fully cognisant, his feet carried him down to the dungeons. He barely staggered into Snape’s office before collapsing with exhaustion, his cloak still tightly wrapped around his body.

* * *

Severus woke gently. He loved Dreamless Sleep, pity it was so addictive. Slipping his wand out from under his pillow, he cast a quiet_ tempus_, and saw that it was after dawn. Something niggled at the edge of his mind but he shrugged it off for the moment. Rising and dressing briskly, he made his way from his rooms to his office, intending to make his way to the Great Hall for an invigorating cup of coffee. Dealing with the fallout of whatever happened at the Ministry last night would turn the day very long.

Pacing through his office, he kicked something large on the ground and went sprawling. Crashing into the hard stone floor, he looked back and saw… Nothing? And… Half his foot was suddenly missing? Mentally smacking himself, he rose, straightening his robes with a violent tug. Of course Potter would be so inconsiderate as to fall asleep in the middle of his office while wrapped in his Merlin forsaken cloak.

With an irritated huff, he bent over, feeling around until he caught a fist full of fabric and yanked. An edge came away, enough for him to see a pair of legs sprawled out and a small pool of blood. Frowning, he followed the edge, tugging and pulling until he could uncover the remainder of the figure on his office floor.

Potter was ash white, bruises littering exposed skin like purple smudges. His clothing was torn, gaping open and smeared with blood. Grasping a shoulder, he pulled the youth from his side onto his back, exposing a larger pool of blood and a sluggish trickle coming from a chest wound.

Horror washed over Severus. Abandoning decorum, he frantically checked for a pulse, sighing with relief when he found it, even if it was weak. Scooping Potter up, the cloak tangling between them, he strode back into his rooms, tenderly laying the youth down on his bed. Darting to his personal laboratory, he immediately went to his potion’s cabinet. Rifling through, he selected half a dozen different vials before striding back to his room.

With little hesitation, he began casting diagnostics. Severe blood loss, magical exhaustion, various bruises and abrasions, two large curse wounds. Growling, Severus spelled away Potter's clothes except for his underwear, folding the invisibility cloak and placing it on his chest of drawers. The youth was still too thin, bruises like fingerprints all over his frame. One gash started at his shoulder, curving down below his pectoral and wrapping around his ribs. The other started at his hip, slashing almost straight down to his knee. While the wounds had missed any major arteries, they were still large and had apparently been losing blood steadily for at least a few hours.

This was going to take a while. With an exasperated sigh, Severus stripped down to his shirtsleeves and trousers. Pouring a little of a healing potion over the scar in Harry's chest, he began gently massaging the wound closed. He ignored the lithe form sprawled on his bed; long limbs splayed about inelegantly.

Once he was satisfied with the closure of the chest wound, he repeated the process on Potters thigh. The slash was deep, cutting into the layers of muscle. He could only hope he had gotten to it soon enough so that it would not cause a limp, the scar would be bad enough.

Slipping in behind the youth's torso, he tipped his head back over one arm, so Potter’s mouth fell open. Gently dribbling a blood replenishing potion in, he massaged the bared throat so he would swallow. While he was capable of spelling a potion directly into the youths’ stomach, it was not generally recommended if it could be avoided. The magic was harsh on an ailing system and the large influx of potion taxing on the body.

He finished pouring in the blood replenisher in and began gently spreading bruise balm over the cool skin. Severus couldn’t resist running fingers through wild black hair, smiling softly when Harry turned into the touch.

Kicking himself for sentimentality, Severus eased the youth back onto the bed and slipped into the bathroom. The blood and grime needed to be washed away, as would the bruise balm before it became crusted and ineffective. Pointedly not thinking about it, Severus began running a warm bath, tipping more vials of healing potions to shimmer in the water.

Stripping down to his pants, the Potions Master gathered up the youth and moved into the bathroom, gently laying the form into the water and settling behind him. A wandless warming charm meant his back was not cold against the porcelain tub. The body pressed to his chest, fitting neatly between his bent knees, growing warm and soft. He tipped the curly-haired head back onto his shoulder, Potter still sleeping deeply from magical exhaustion.

With a soft cloth, Severus began cleaning away the muck and grime from whatever Potter had gone through at the ministry. The potions seeped into tender skin, healing and soothing any remaining hurts. Severus tried to ignore how right it felt to have Harry in his arms, how soft his skin was, pliant under his fingers. Desperately, he shoved away the memory of their kiss, the weight of the young body pressed against his own.

Sighing at his own folly, he wrapped his arms around Harry, hugging him close and tucking his nose into the unruly black hair that tickled his cheek. Disappointed, he realised that Harry no longer smelt like himself, his hair still thick with dust while the rest smelt of healing potions.

Toeing out the bath plug, Severus spelled the youth featherlite so that he could be manoeuvred out of the tub. A couple of gentle drying charms later and he was carrying Potter back into the bedroom. Spelling on a clean nightshirt, he tucked the youth into bed and crawled in to try and warm the still form up. Soon Morpheus claimed him without Severus realising it.

* * *

Once again, Harry came to with little to no idea where he was. Eyes still closed and unmoving he took stock of his body. Surprisingly he didn't really hurt; low-level pain barely registered anymore. He tested his different muscle groups and found one thigh twinged painfully and his chest ached when he shifted.

Sifting through his mind, Harry dredged up hazy memories from the night before. Receiving the vision, going to the Ministry, Death Eaters, battling Riddle and being sent back to Hogwarts by Dumbledore. He had a vague memory of breaking out of Dumbledore's office and then everything went blank.

Just as he opened his eyes to try and figure out where he had ended up, he registered a soft breath on the back of his neck and a warm arm wrapped around his middle. Trying not to move too much, he shifted half onto his back to see who was curled around him. Harry had to suppress a gasp of pain as the sensitive skin on his chest yanked. He could see a pale muscular shoulder, shifting a little further he could see long black hair. Eyes widening in surprise, he finally recognised where he was.

He was in Snape's bed. Snape was in bed with him. Cuddling. He felt a little dizzy as his blood rushed. Cheeks immediately turning cherry red. Harry felt his cock twitch in interest when he realised they were barely clothed and he blushed harder. His movement must have disturbed the other man as his eyes flicked open and Snapes’ arm tightened around his waist.

“Welcome back to the land of the conscious.” Snapes’ voice was rough with sleep and Harry had to suppress a moan. This was all far too much for his sleep-muddled teenage body to handle.

“What happened?” He asked softly, not moving from where he lay half pressed against the Potion Master's side.

“At a little after dawn, I woke and prepared for the day. Walking through my office, I tripped over you wrapped in your invisibility cloak and unconscious on the floor. When I realised the condition you were in, I brought you here and healed you. You were cold so I tried to warm you and must have fallen asleep. Apologies.” The man replied, he made half a motion to shift away but when Harry clung on he settled back down. Hesitantly, Snape reached up a hand to card through Harry's hair and he almost moaned at the soft sensation.

Shifting slowly, Harry half draped himself over the older man who had ended up lying on his back. Harry couldn't help but hope Snape wouldn't notice his burgeoning erection, shifting his hips so it wouldn't press into the Potion Master's’ thigh.

“Tell me what happened?” The question was quiet, fingers still massaging his scalp, tugging on the thick hair until Harry could relay what happened without drowning in emotion.

Snape was silent throughout, waiting patiently for his words to finish tumbling free. When Harry finally explained that he believed he had destroyed Riddle, Snape stopped stroking his hair and blinked down at his bared left forearm.

It was blank.

Astonished, Snape hesitantly traced fingers over unblemished skin. Harry watched with fascination, the play of emotions over the older man’s face. This moment was unvarnished in its painful clarity. Surprise, hope, fear, joy all warred across the stern visage.

Suddenly, he felt long fingers tangle in his hair, tugging his head back so that thin lips pressed against his own. Harry couldn’t suppress the gasp of surprise, followed by a sigh. Snape rolled onto his side, pressing their chests together. One hand firm in his hair, keeping their mouths connected, the other slid down until a palm pressed firmly against the small of Harry’s back. Arching into the touch, a needy whine slipped out as a tongue gently probed his mouth. Harry whimpered and flushed when Snape shifted away from him.

The older man pressed lips to his forehead. “I am sorry Harry, I should not have done that.”

Harry froze. Heart clenching, mind racing, he didn’t know what to do. For a moment he had thought the attraction, or whatever they had, was mutual but… His thoughts trailed off as Snape continued speaking.

“You are very underage Harry, and I am your Professor. Anything between us at this stage would be inappropriate and illegal.” Harry couldn’t help but notice that Snape had not moved away though. “Irrespective, there are some things which I promised to explain before you left for the Ministry. What I have to tell you may change your opinion of me.”


	11. Chapter 11

Shuffling back just a little, but not leaving the safety of his arms, Harry stared wide-eyed into dark eyes.

“I told you, before you left, that I already knew about the prophecy before the Dark Lord sent you the vision. I would like to tell you my story, not as an excuse, but so that you may understand some of the choices I made.”

Harry nodded slowly, settling more comfortably and waiting. Snape had never lied to him, had always told him what truths he could, but he could see the pain in those dark orbs, the harsh lines etched into pale skin. He had a sinking feeling that he was not going to like this story.

“My mother was a pure-blooded witch, she was betrothed to a pureblood wizard whom she loathed. To avoid the marriage, she ran away and got herself pregnant and married to a muggle, my father. Once my father discovered her magic, he turned abusive and alcoholic. He drank away what money they had so my childhood was impoverished.

“A few streets away from where we lived, in the nice part of town, there was a small family with two daughters. One day, I stumbled across one of the daughters doing accidental magic and struck up a friendship with her. She became a light in my otherwise dark life. We were the same age and when we both got our Hogwarts letters, I believed we would be friends forever.

“She was sorted into Gryffindor, and I, into Slytherin. The school tried to drive our friendship apart, but she was my only real friend and she was incredibly stubborn. Due to my obvious poverty, I became targeted by a group of Gryffindor’s who took pleasure in bullying me. She was forever defending me and I saw her as a sister.

“Everything changed in my fifth year. I had been gathering attention within Slytherin for being a potions prodigy and soon, the dark faction began courting me. My friend did not like this, worried that I would turn dark too. I assured her I had everything under control. Finally, I was getting some recognition! I was young and while intelligent, I was easily seduced.

“Everything came to a head after our final OWL’s exam, I was sitting under a tree by the lake when the bullies attacked, assaulting me in front of my peers. I was humiliated. My friend appeared, yelling at the bullies and defending me. In my humiliation, I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I lashed out at her, calling her a mudblood."

Severus paused here and Harry could see such pain etched in his face. While he didn’t agree with the slur, he could understand how it felt to be bullied and harassed. Under that stress, anyone would have lashed out.

“She never forgave me. I bent my pride once to apologise sincerely to her and she rejected me.

“I turned to the dark who welcomed me with open arms, soothing the hurt left by her dismissal. A year later she was dating the leader of the bullies that had tormented me throughout my schooling years. In our sixth year, I was lured by one of the bullies into a dangerous situation where I could have died and was saved by the leader. From what I know of the man, he only saved me to save his friends, but unfortunately, I owed him a life debt nonetheless.

“The day after I graduated from Hogwarts, I was taken before the Dark Lord and was marked. A week later my father was dead; a gift from the Dark Lord to me. To begin with, I was his man. They showered me with gifts, encouraging me to explore the darkest side of potion making and spell crafting. I created horrendous brews and curses for the dark side to use.

“Two years after graduation I had completed my Mastery of Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts and the Dark Lord expressed a desire to have an agent inside Hogwarts. Dumbledore was seeking a replacement Defence Against the Dark Arts and Potions Professor. I was invited to the Hogs Head for an interview where I overheard Trelawney giving a prophecy to Dumbledore. It spoke of the Dark Lords demise. I was discovered before I could hear the full thing, but I heard enough. Thrown out before I could interview for either position, I hastened to the Dark Lord and informed him of what I had heard:

_“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..._

_Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies..._

“I never held much stock in Divination but knew the Dark Lord would be interested in it. The obsession that developed in the Dark Lord over the prophecy surpassed anything I expected. Eventually, it filtered through the ranks that two women on the light side were pregnant and due at the end of July; Lily Potter and Alice Longbottom.

“I was horrified when I realised what would happen. You see, my childhood friend, the one who had married the boy who bullied me for most of my life, she was Lily. The Dark Lord was convinced that she would bear the child of prophecy. I begged him to spare her. I did not care for Potter, my tormentor, her husband; I knew there was no chance that the Dark Lord would permit the child to live, but there was a chance, no matter how slim, that he would allow Lily to live. I had been his faithful servant and while Lily had cast me aside over a moment of stupidity, she was still the best friend I had ever had.

“The Dark Lord promised he would spare her but I knew that he would only make a cursory attempt at best. So I went to the only other person who could help. I told Dumbledore what would happen, begged that he put you all into hiding. A month later, she was dead, Potter along with her, and you were orphaned. I was there, after. I found her by your cot and you watched me break down in grief. You were so quiet. But then Black arrived and I had to flee.”

Harry was overwhelmed, there was so much in there to process but one thing struck him. “Riddle asked her to step aside three times.” He murmured and felt Snape freeze. “When the Dementors get too close, I hear her confrontation with Riddle. He asked her to step aside three times, and she refused. He did as you asked.”

Silence settled over the pair as they both tried to assimilate all the new information.

“So my father and Marauders bullied you? My mother was your best friend until you called her a nasty name and she turned her back on you?”

Snape nodded mutely, waiting.

“I’m not sure what to think, to be honest. I don’t remember my parents, I only know what people told me. Everyone praised them, except for you, the disdain you held for my father became abundantly clear over the years. Your story makes sense, and it’s not that I don’t believe you… I’ve seen your interactions with Sirius and while he often instigates, you always give as good as you got. I wouldn’t know who to go to for an even remotely unbiased view?” Harry mused to himself.

“The wolf would probably give you a better picture than either myself or your dogfather.” Snape sighed and Harry looked up in surprise. “Lupin never actively bullied me, he stood by as Potter and Black attacked, Pettigrew egging them on from the sidelines.”

Harry hummed, Remus had behaved oddly at the Ministry, he would need to speak with the man anyway. “Why do you dislike Remus? I understand not liking someone for standing by as you were abused, but the resentment seems to run deeper than that.”

Severus sighed heavily. “In sixth year, the incident that I mentioned. Black told me how to get past the Whomping Willow. I had been getting closer to figuring out Lupin’s secret and Black taunted me with the information. I went down into the willow and Potter found out about it; he came and rescued me, but not before I saw Lupin in his transformed state. I was sworn to secrecy by Dumbledore. Black was given detention for a week for almost sending me to my death. I believe Lupin didn’t speak to him for a year because of that little stunt.”

“Merlin.” Harry breathed. “I think I need some time to think about it all.”

Snape immediately began pulling away, but Harry’s hand darted out and gripped his forearm. “Please…” He whispered. “Please don’t leave though.”

Long fingers tucked under his chin and pulled his face up so that emerald eyes locked with onyx. They searched him deeply, seeing the conflict and pain, seeing the fear and loneliness. With a sigh, Snape wrapped himself around the youth, holding him close. Harry sighed and cuddled into the embrace.

* * *

The pair drifted with their thoughts, curled together in bed, for who knew how long. It was the sound of Potters stomach growling that finally motivated him to get up. Severus dragged the youth out to his loungeroom, ordering lunch from a house-elf as he moved into the kitchenette to prepare a tea tray.

The earlier confessional had been cathartic, Potter’s reaction had been unexpected. He had expected hatred, revulsion, derision. Instead, Potter had been… understanding to a degree. The youth hadn’t left, instead, seeking comfort with him.

Severus mused over their quiet confessions as he prepared the tea tray. The ritual was soothing. Selecting an elegant white and silver teapot from the cabinet, he filled it with boiled water, warming the porcelain. He selected a cup for each of them, an elegant black and white pattern for him, one with emerald leaves wrapping over the lip for Potter. Next, he sat the matching white and silver sugar bowl and milk jug on the tray, pouring cold milk in.

Finally, he opened the cupboard with his collection of tea leaves. Extracting the canister of Assam, he meticulously measured out four teaspoons and a fifth for the pot, banishing the hot water in the pot, he settled the strainer over the mouth and poured freshly boiled water over the leaves. The rich scent immediately wafted up to Severus and he sighed. Setting the pot lid next to the pot, he levitated the entire tray back to the lounge room.

Potter was, once again, huddled into the second armchair by the fire, gazing into its depths. The house-elf had delivered lunch, it rested on one of the side tables. Sighing again, he settled the tea tray on the other. Fixing his own cup, he paused, noticing that Potter was still lost in thought. With a mental shrug, he prepared one for the youth and spelled it to remain warm.

Taking a sip, he observed the other; tiredness was etched deeply into Potter’s face. Severus felt like he was looking at himself after he had taken the mark, after he had condemned Lily to death.

He should feel relieved. The Dark Lord was gone, finally, at last. But there was still this waiting, this sense of holding their breath that wouldn’t abate. Something was still terribly wrong with the balance of the wizarding world.

With a sinking feeling, Severus tried to push aside the thought that he didn’t want to acknowledge. The thought that he knew what was wrong, _who_ was wrong with their world. Looking at Potter, Severus couldn’t help but think the youth knew as well. They both knew it wasn’t over yet, that the battle had only barely begun. This time though, they would have fewer allies, would have fewer resources.

“Harry,” He forced himself to use the youth’s first name, he seemed to respond better to it after all, “have some tea, or eat something. Your body needs sustenance.”

Potter jerked around, blinking out of his reverie and smiled sheepishly. They made their way through lunch in surprisingly comfortable silence.

“Thank you.” Potter murmured eventually; eyes still fixed on the fire. Severus raised an eyebrow and waited for further explanation. “Thank you for telling me the truth, thank you for sharing your story with me, thank you for having my back, for not pushing me away, for seeing the truth of me finally and acting like it was ok. I know I’m not much, but I try. Thank you for giving me the chance.”

He trailed off and Severus suppressed a groan of irritation, “Harry, I have never lied to you. I have tried to tell you time and again that you are worth something, that you are more than enough. Why won't you believe me as you do with everything else?” Exasperation leached into his tone, he was tired of having this argument over and over again.

“Why do you pull away? There were moments when I thought you cared, when I saw… something… But then you would pull away. I don’t know if I’m imagining it, or if I’m doing something wrong. I just… I’ve been going around and around with it in my head and I just can’t figure it out. I wish I had died with Riddle!”

Potter had been growing increasingly agitated as he went on, finally standing and shouting down at Severus who sat quietly. “I hate my life, I hate everything about it, including myself. I am broken, damaged beyond repair, dying would have been easier. Why couldn’t he have taken me down with him?!”

Severus watched as the youth collapsed to his knees, staring at his hands. Slipping out of his seat, Severus tucked two fingers under Potter’s chin and forced him to look up.

“Harry, I will say this once only, so you had better listen.” The eyes were lost but waiting. “Irrespective of any feelings that exist, you are fifteen. You are my student, I am a professor at your school and I exist in a position of authority over you. I am also twenty years older than you. While the age of consent with your peers is sixteen, for someone with such a significant age gap, you must be a full adult. You must be seventeen and graduated with your NEWT’s. Do you understand what I am saying, Harry?”

Green eyes blinked slowly, understanding and life flowing back into them. “So if someone with such an age gap between them had kissed…?”

“It could not happen again until any legal issues had been resolved,” Severus replied firmly. “Such a thing could result in severe punishment for someone in my position.”

* * *

Harry's head spun as he shuffled up to the Gryffindor tower. Snape, as much as he could, had explained, had given him hope! He could wait, would wait. No one else made him feel the way Severus did. He didn't want to jeopardise what little he had been promised, so he resolved he would behave, would study hard, would not push the bounds of propriety. He would be worthy of the man who had believed in him, had supported him. The man who had seen the darkest parts of him and still was willing to kiss him.

He was so lost in thought, he didn't realise he was at the tower until he felt the portrait under his hand and Hermione's shriek in his ear.

“Harry! Where have you been?! You just up and vanished after History of Magic, that was yesterday!!”

An uncomfortable silence settled over the common room.

“Sorry Hermione, I've had a bit of a crazy day, can we do this later?”

“Later?! What on earth has gotten into you? Harry, I'm worried about you, you've been acting weird and now you vanish again? I thought you were getting better.” Hurt laced her tone.

Harry looked up and sighed. “Voldemort is gone.”

There was a moment of silence before a cacophony of noise assaulted his eardrums. He found himself wishing for Snape's dungeons. He could only stand there and wait the storm out.

Hermione soon restored order. “What do you mean Voldemort is gone?”

Harry sighed heavily and leant back against the wall by the entrance. “It will come out soon anyway, may as well tell my side before any lies get printed. Not that any of you will believe me anyway…” He trailed off muttering to himself. Hermione made an impatient noise and he shook himself to refocus.

“Anyway, as most of you know, Voldemort has taunted me on and off with visions since his return. I've been keeping them at bay for the last six months but during our History OWL, I slipped. He sent me a vision of someone I love being tortured at the Ministry of Magic. So that's where I went. Through my usual luck, I defeated Voldemort and now you are all safe. Congratulations.”

The silence was stunned. He waited for a few beats before continuing. “Can I go now, or do you want more from me?”

There was no response, so with a shrug, he shuffled up to the dorm and closed his curtains to wait for dinner.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is the last chapter for this book, make sure that you subscribe to the series if you want to keep reading. 
> 
> Also, a little revenge at the end ;)

* * *

The whispering was insidious during dinner. Harry could feel the hungry gazes crawling over his skin, the whispers twining into his ears and making him shudder. The rumour mill had been busy apparently. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? It gave him whiplash trying to keep up with the mood of the school. One week they were praising his existence, the next they were cursing him. Perhaps now that Riddle was dead, they would leave him alone.

Sitting down at an empty space on the Gryffindor table, he could feel eyes burning into him. As he reached for the potatoes, someone plonked down next to him, far too close for comfort. He saw a flash of red in the corner of his eye and his heart ached with missing the Twins.

“Hey, Ginny.” He commented quietly, trying to reach around her for the roast vegetables.

“Hey Harry,” Her voice was oddly breathy, “I heard what you said in the common room. You are so brave, so strong, I just wish you hadn’t felt like you had to go it alone. I would have come with you, we all would have.”

Harry finally looked up from his plate to see his year mates clustered around while he hadn’t been paying attention. His eyes flick to Ginny’s and he tries not to cringe away from the naked hunger in her gaze. She tangled her fingers with his, pressing her chest into his arm and resting her cheek on his shoulder.

He could only feel frozen, horrified by this overwhelming invasion of his personal space. Never before has she done this and he can’t help but wonder why she was doing it now. His mind was screaming at him to flee, to get to the boys' dorms and shower, to scrub until the top layers of skin had been removed.

He was lost, struggling with his physical and emotional response to this new development. Harry was barely aware when two fingers press into his jaw, shifting his face slightly.

He does feel when something sticky and warm pressed against his mouth. His brain shorted out. Lurching backwards, his arms flailed, forcing the thing pressed against him away.

Awareness returned and he found himself on the ground, everyone staring down at him. A furious Ginny Weasley lurched up from where he had accidentally shoved her and loomed over him.

“What the hell is wrong with you Harry?! What was that?!” Her cheeks are flushed a similar shade to her hair, he noted absently.

Scrambling to his feet, anger overwhelmed him. “There is nothing wrong with me Ginny! What the hell gives you the right to touch me like that!? When have I ever indicated that I was interested in you in any way beyond a friend and surrogate sister? You can’t just go around kissing people!”

He can’t help a small flush staining his cheeks, that was exactly what he had done to Snape. He forced himself not to look at the Head Table, only now realising how quiet the Great Hall is.

“But you saved me! We were always meant to be together, I figured you were waiting to defeat You-Know-Who before you made a move. I have been waiting for you!”

Harry couldn’t help but snort at her dramatics. “I hardly call dating half of Gryffindor tower waiting. Irrespective, there has never been and never will be anything between us Ginny.” And with that, Harry strode past her and out of the Great Hall, ignoring the rising tide of whispers.

He was barely out of the Entrance Hall when he heard Ron call him. With a sigh, he stopped, turning back to his old friend.

“Yes?” He asked wearily. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since he had defeated Riddle and already things were going to shit. He really should have expected this.

“What was that mate?! You stringing my little sister along and then hurting her like that?” Ron’s face is furious and red, his fists clenched white.

“I have never strung your sister along Ron, I was entirely unaware she held any affection for me beyond platonic. I am sorry I pushed her away, but she kissed me without warning or consent. My body is still running on battle reflexes after defeating Riddle last night. So forgive me if I overreacted.” Exhaustion is etched deep in his bones.

Ron strode forward, forcing himself into Harry’s face and it takes everything he has not to hex the bastard. He feels hands shove at his shoulders and Harry staggered back a pace in surprise. “No, she has always loved you, and we will be damned if you don’t love her back. You and her were always meant to be, so buck up and stop fucking her over will you. She is perfect for you.”

Harry can only blink in surprise. Well, that was weird, disturbing and concerning on so many levels. Mute, Harry can only shake his head, glancing around until he spots a nearby passage. With a twitch of his fingers, he set off a minor explosion behind the growing crowd and waited for them all to look away before slipping behind the tapestry, silencing his feet and running for it.

Within minutes, he is panting on the seventh floor, begging for a hideaway that no one else could access. Wrenching the door open, he darted inside to see the door melt away, successfully hiding him from the outside world.

* * *

The next morning, the school was in an uproar over breakfast. Harry managed to snag an abandoned copy of _The Prophet_, flicking it open to see a picture of Dumbledore beaming benevolently from the front page. The headline proclaimed:

_You-Know-Who no more!!_

_In the early hours of yesterday morning, a great battle took place at the Ministry of Magic. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, provided a statement late yesterday on the events leading up the reveal and subsequent destruction of the Dark Lord known as Voldemort._

_‘I am able to confirm the destruction of the Dark Lord known as Voldemort. The light has been working in secret to ensure the safety of the wizarding world at large and we have been successful. I know that it has been a confusing time, with the Ministry saying one thing and myself saying another. It is easy to be misled by those who do not fully grasp the situation. It is my hope that now the threat to the safety of our lives has been removed, we can all work together towards achieving peace and harmony within our community._

_‘Only the Dark knew that by an able and persistent use of propaganda heaven itself can be presented to the people as if it were hell and, vice versa, the most miserable kind of life can be presented as if it were paradise. The Dark knew this and acted accordingly. But we, or rather our Government, did not have the slightest suspicion of it. During the War, the heaviest of penalties had to be paid for that ignorance._

_‘It is too easy to backslide, as demonstrated by Voldemort and his followers. As such, we must all work together to ensure that the darkness that has plagued our society for so long is purged. Everyone will have their part to play, but I cannot stress how important the coming months will be for our community. We will be creating a new home, one that is safe from corruption. I can only hope that the community will no longer resist those of greater understanding and wisdom as they shape our world into a better place for everyone.’_

_The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, could only echo Dumbledore’s sentiments, obviously still grappling with the realisation he had placed the entirety of wizarding Britain in danger with his refusal to see reason over the rise of the Dark Lord known as Voldemort._

_The question stands, how long will it be before the Wizengamot calls for a vote of no confidence in our acting Minister. Who will step into the role? Will Albus Dumbledore finally cave to popular demand and step into the position as he was always meant to?_

Harry tried to suppress the wave of horror that washed over him. There was something deeply unnerving about the article and he was terrified over what would be coming next. He couldn’t help but feel that his problems were only just beginning, that there was a larger, more insidious enemy out there that he was yet to face.

* * *

He was sitting at lunch, alone once again, though the hungry stares had not abated, when a third-year girl hurried up to him.

“Hi, Harry.” She said bashfully, blushing and tucking some hair behind her ear.

“Hello.” He responded, hoping that she would leave soon. When she only stood there and gazed at him, he coughed. “Was there something you wanted?”

“Oh!” She jumped and blushed a little more, thrusting a small scroll of paper out. “Dumbledore asked me to give this to you.”

He attempted to extract the scroll without having to touch the girl, but their fingers still brushed, and the girl giggled, gazing at him longer.

Increasingly uncomfortable, Harry couldn’t keep the frown off his face any longer. “Was there anything else?”

She pouted and shook her head, turning to flounce away to her friends who immediately started whispering furiously. With a sigh, Harry unrolled the scroll, working to read the overly flowery script.

_Harry my boy,_

_I believe we are overdue for a little chat. Please come by my office at two this afternoon so that we may discuss relevant things._

_Regards,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. I thoroughly enjoy lemon drops on occasion._

Tucking away the note, he went back to his lunch, mulling over what Dumbledore could possibly want to talk about. The man didn’t know about his Occlumency, didn’t know about his connection with Snape. Either he would want to talk about what happened at the Ministry or about his summer _arrangements_.

* * *

Trudging up to the Headmasters office, he gave the password and watched the Gargoyle jump aside, the stairs carrying him too quickly to the large oak doors. Knocking, he heard a muffled enter and pressed the door open. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, twinkling at him.

“Harry my boy! Thank you for joining me. Tea?” He gestured to the tray and Harry knew that not only would he have to take a cup, but the pot would be laced with something.

Every year he came to have tea with the Headmaster before the end of term, preparing to beg and plead for an alternative to returning to the Dursleys. Every year, his well-reasoned arguments would dissolve within a few mouthfuls and he would leave happy and convinced returning to his relatives was the best course of action. That feeling would remain with him for about a week before fading and leaving him with the accumulating knowledge that he was being manipulated. It had been last year when he had become sure that something hinky was going on. Now, he knew what to expect, knew what was going on, and was prepared, all thanks to Snape.

Settling back into the comfortable armchair in front of the desk, Harry pretended to take a sip. Instead, he blew over the surface of the tea and banished a mouthful. Dumbledore waited until he had taken a few mouthfuls and was relaxing heavily into the chair before speaking.

“My boy, that was quite an act you pulled off at the Ministry! I must say I am impressed that you managed to defeat Voldemort. However did you manage it?”

Harry had been expecting this and knew the right twist of truth to tell. “Luck I guess, sir. I wrapped all the love and affection I had for those who care about me around my heart and trusted my instincts. I was just really lucky, sir. I was ever so glad when I realised you were there in case I failed, I was so sure I would, but figured it was worth a shot to see if I could succeed. I guess you were right in the end, sir, that love would defeat Riddle.”

He plastered an adoring look over his face, pretending to worship the man as expected. Harry had to choke down bile as the Headmaster preened. Merlin, the man was mental.

“Ah well, well done my boy! It was definitely lucky and unexpected. I am so proud of you.” The old man twinkled at him as Harry flushed and pretended to drain his cup, making a fresh one.

“Now, I know that with Voldemort gone you might have hoped to escape staying with your aunt and uncle, but unfortunately, you will still be safest with them, at least until your birthday. There are still many Death Eaters at large, it would not be safe for you to roam about! After your birthday, I will arrange for someone to collect you and bring you to Grimmauld Place so you may spend the remainder of the break with your godfather.”

Harry knew he had to put up a token protest before caving. “But sir! Why can’t I stay with Sirius all break? I would be safe at Grimmauld Place. It’s still under the fidelius!”

The Headmaster arranged his face to look stern and sad. “I am sorry my boy, but with Sirius still a wanted criminal it would not be safe for you with him. Trust me, my boy, this is for the greater good.”

With a huff and another pretend sip of tea, Harry agreed, knowing that his summer was only going to be worse than the last.

* * *

It was the day before the student body was due to leave Hogwarts. People had been avoiding him and smothering him in equal measure. He struggled to find any time to escape to the dungeons. In reality, he knew it was for the best, Snape had no reason to tolerate him any longer and while the man had been kind during their last meeting, his hope had begun to fade that the Potions Master would wait for him for the next two years. He was intelligent, witty and striking. Now that Riddle had been taken out, he would be able to behave as his true self and soon, people would be chasing after the man in droves.

Harry dissolutely pushed the eggs around his plate feeling lonelier than ever when he noticed a copy of _The Prophet_ sitting nearby with a picture of Umbridge on the front.

_Undersecretary Umbridge Incarcerated!_

_Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, Dolores Umbridge, has been charged with the illegal use of a blood magic artefact on the students of Hogwarts during her stint as the Professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts. She was remanded into Ministry custody and was tried late yesterday where it was revealed that she was in possession of a blood quill which she used during detentions as a method of punishment to students she deemed ‘unruly’. It was confirmed under veritaserum during the trial that she had students write lines using the blood quill to instil the lessons she believed they needed to learn._

_Blood quills are a controlled artefact, their only use permitted by lawyers and the goblins at Gringotts as the words written are magically binding. Due to the underage nature of those students which have been affected by this horrific abuse of power, no names were released though it can be confirmed that all will be irrevocably changed._

_It was a unanimous decision by the Wizengamot that Ms Umbridge would be sentenced to life in Azkaban in one of the high-security cells with no chance for parole. The Ministry is being lauded for taking such a hard line on the heels of their failure to acknowledge the return of the Dark Lord once known as Voldemort. Perhaps this is an indicator of what we can expect from the Ministry moving forward._

As subtly as possible, Harry glanced to the Head Table, waiting for Snape’s dark eyes to scan across the room. They lingered on him for a moment as he inclined his head slightly in thanks. The Potions Master sneered in response, but Harry could see that his eyes were soft. While Harry knew nothing could ever change what had been done to him, it was nice to see that, at least in this, justice had been served.

* * *

The trip on the Hogwarts express was awkward, to say the least. He was ushered into a compartment with Hermione, Ron and Ginny. The youngest Weasley was pouting and reading a fashion magazine while Ron and Hermione snuggled together in the corner of the compartment. Harry sighed, pressing his forehead to the window and watching as the landscape slid by. He was glad he had decided to leave Hedwig at Hogwarts, he had a feeling taking her to Privet Drive would not end well.

It was going to be a long summer with little opportunity for a reprieve.


End file.
